Liquids
by Kreek
Summary: A look into the elusive world of angst as Starsky tries to come to terms with the events shown in bloodbath.
1. Liquids chapter 1, 2 and 3

**Disclaimer**: This story is pure for fun. No money is being made from this. The characters of Starsky and Hutch don't belong to me, but Stef does.

**Rating:** PG13

**Related Episode: **Bloodbath (Epilogue).

**Warning:** Angst ahead, some graphic scenes and some mild swearing.

**Thanks** as always goes to Elsa for her incredible beta work. Also to Starsky's Strut for her encouragement and for doing some of the beta work that I obviously couldn't ask Cindy to do.

I'm writing this story for Cindy E, my beta and Jill. I don't usually do requests, but I made an exception in this case and I decided to put all of it into one story. Cindy, you wanted some Angst, I hope I succeeded. And Jill, thank you for letting me use your inside view on liquids.

* * *

**"Liquids"  
**(Kreek©March05)

**Chapter 1 **

He loved it. He always had. The chase down the streets, the screeching of wheels, the adrenaline rushing through his body as they closed in on the perp. More often though, they were in the car, not running through dark grey streets and small empty alleyways.

Like now.

Although it was the middle of the night, he was sharply aware of his surroundings. The air that escaped his mouth quickly evaporated in white puffs of smoke as his highly heightened senses were tingling with adrenaline. Focussed on the chase, he was also extremely aware of the moves his partner was making. Right now the man was running around the building to head off the perp's escape. At moments like these he almost felt one with him.

He followed the quickly running shadow in front of him with his weapon drawn.

"Freeze. Police!"

The shadow disappeared in a dark space between the two buildings. He ran to it, his steps faltering as he entered the narrow lane. It was small, very small. There was only room for one man at most. It was more a crack between the two large buildings than an alleyway.

His feet suddenly felt like lead. The walls kept closing in on him. He stopped as he eyed the dark walls of the adjacent buildings, following them into the deep darkness beyond. Fear, unreasonable and unfounded, but there nevertheless, settled itself in his stomach.

_It's nothin', there's nothin' to be afraid of!_

But his body wouldn't listen. His mind was screaming at him to get out of there. His heart was racing, telling him of untold terrors hiding in the dark, terrors that, without any warning, could cause intolerable pain. Mercilessly, they drowned out the small reasoning voice, the cop inside, the joy.

And David Michael Starsky froze.

* * *

Hutch came running up from behind his dark curly headed partner, after having encircled the entire bulk of the two buildings.

"Where'd he go?" He panted heavily as he leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath. His blond hair now looked grey in the absence of daylight.

"You didn't see him?"

"Starsky, would I be standing here… panting my lungs out… if I had!" He put his Magnum away and looked at his partner. "I thought you were right behind him! What happened?"

Starsky paced anxiously back and forth. "He went in there," he stated simply, gesturing at the narrow, dark slide between the walls as if that explained everything.

Hutch, still gasping for air, frowned at his partner. It was too dark to see his face, but the blond didn't need any lights to be able to read the tension building up in the man.

"I _had _him Hutch, I just…"

Hutch caught his partner's eyes for a moment, before Starsky tore them away. Much to Hutch's frustration, he abruptly changed the subject.

"Forget it, huh? I've had enough for one night. Shift ends right now, buddy. I'm signing us out."

Before the blond could get another word out between panting breaths, Starsky had marched back to the Torino. Hutch bit his lip. This was the second time his partner had frozen. The second time they had lost the chase. And the second time Starsky stubbornly refused to talk about it.

Hutch quickly pushed himself off the wall and walked after the sturdy shape, which was disappearing in the darkness. He managed to grab his partner by the arm, just as Starsky was about to enter the car.

The streetlight reflected on the top of the Torino, bathing them in eerie reddish-yellow light. Starsky was forced to stop. He tried to avoid Hutch's eyes, but the blond wouldn't let him. The question Hutch asked silently was as clear as if he had spoken it out loud.

Starsky sighed and looked away, not really seeing anything. "I'm tellin' ya Hutch, one minute I'm fine and the other…"

"It's okay, Starsk."

"No." Frustration and anger came boiling to the surface. "No, it's not okay Hutch! What good a cop am I when I can't even catch a two-bit punk like that? I froze, partner! Again!"

"Yeah." Hutch quickly intervened; trying to quell his partner's boiling temper. "And so did I once, remember? It's not the end of the world."

Starsky pointed an angry finger at him. "For you, maybe. It doesn't work that way for me. It's all or nothing. It's been what? Three weeks, since those Simon-creeps got their hands on me?"

Hutch nodded, feeling slightly bitter at recalling the whole ordeal. There weren't many people who got under his skin, but Simon Marcus had been one of them. When his cult had kidnapped Starsky, Hutch had tried to interrogate Simon. It had left him severely shaken up. Simon was crazy, but at the same time, he seemed to be able to look right into his soul.

_"You won't hurt me,"_ the man had said. _"You're the white knight."_

Hutch still shivered at the thought of Simon's voice, at the accuracy of his words. As if Simon's blackness had reached into the core of his being and had pulled out Hutch's essence. He had taken a step back, had fallen silent, something he rarely did when interrogating a prisoner, especially one that held the key to Starsky's whereabouts.

It had been even worse for Starsky. He had been at the receiving end of half a dozen of those creeps. Hutch had seen the wounds, heard the story and still could only imagine what it must have been like.

Some of Hutch's desperation must have shown on his face for Starsky managed to control his anger somewhat. "Three weeks Hutch. What if I freeze when it really matters? Huh? What if I can't do my job anymore? You can't keep covering for me forever. Maybe you should think about hitting the streets with someone more reliable."

The words abruptly shook Hutch back to reality. He stared at his partner, for a moment unable to believe what Starsky had just said. He bit back a rising anger at the hurt his partner had unwillingly inflicted. Then worry replaced anger in the blink of an eye and overshadowed a damaged pride.

"Get in," Hutch's voice sounded a little more shaken up than he intended to as some of his anger slipped through. He motioned to the passenger door while looking sternly at his partner, who now wore a slightly culpable expression on his face. _Yes, buddy boy. You just went over the line!_ "Get in!"

"But Hutch, this is _my_ car!"

"I don't care, _I'm _driving. Now get in!"

"But-?"

Hutch raised his finger.

"All right, all right," Starsky complied, walking over to the right side of the Torino and entering with a sigh.

When Hutch had slammed the driver's door shut, he turned to his partner who cringed in his seat, clearly aware of what was to come. Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but recalling the fear he had tasted earlier in Starsky's words, didn't have the heart to rant at him and closed it again. Instead, he sat back again in the black leather seat and cursed. "Dammit Starsk…"

Starsky sighed and sat up. "Yeah, guess I shouldn't have said that."

Hutch shook his head. They were both tired and a good night's sleep would do both of them a world of good. "It's all right. Just forget about it, okay."

Starsky nodded and with a sigh grabbed the mike. "This is Zebra three to Control, we lost him… we're logging out."

A pleasant voice answered him. "Roger Zebra Three. You are logged out at 1.55 AM, have a good night Starsky."

"You too Mildred."

* * *

The kid sat crouched beneath a little overhang on top of the roof, the dark hiding his features. From his comfortable resting point the thief could see both men's silhouettes standing out against the Torino.

_They're good, they almost had me._ For a moment, right before he had ducked into that alley way Stef had been sure he'd get caught. He still shivered at the thought. It had been a long time since someone had gotten this close to catching him. Four years to be exact, and he'd lost Will when it happened.

Doubling back on your chasers was a trick Stef had learned to do since then. He was a professional, one who, right now, had escaped by sheer luck. He peered down, making sure not to move an inch.

_Damn, I've never seen two cops work so efficiently together before_. While running, he had sensed the silent communication between the two, even after they'd split up. It was eerie. Even dangerous, they had come far too close. He had to know their weak spot or next time he wouldn't be so lucky. _So why did they stop the pursuit?_

He studied their moves and their chemistry. _Will, I hope you're listening, cos it's gonna take a little angel on my shoulder to get rid of these two. They're_…, pausing his thoughts for a moment, he got caught in a distant memory … _good. _

As he listened to their conversation an idea began to form. _Split them up, it's my only chance. Get this Starsky one alone… then use his fears against him_.

But he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

* * *

They drove off in silence, but when they neared Venice Place, Starsky suddenly began to speak. "Hey, wanna grab a bite?"

"What, now? Starsk, it's two in the morning!"

"Yeah, but I'm hungry, man."

"If you're gonna eat now, you're going to have belly aches again in the morning." Hutch warned. Starsky had been suffering from acute bellyaches lately, mostly after he'd eaten and of course, the man had refused to see a doctor.

"I'm hungry," the dark haired detective whined again. "What d' ya want me to do, starve to death?"

"You could go and see a doctor Starsk, after that, you can eat whenever and whatever you like."

"No thanks, I've had my fill of those quacks. They checked me out three weeks ago and I was fine then. This is just some bug I picked up, nothing else."

Their conversation was cut short as they arrived at Hutch's apartment. The blond exited the Torino and then leaned into the open window as Starsky was sliding over to the driver's side. "See ya tomorrow partner, twelve thirty and try to get some sleep."

Starsky nodded with a reassuring smile. "I'll be there," he said. "Mind letting go?"

Hutch withdrew his hands and stood back. While watching the Torino disappearing down the street, he couldn't help but feel worried. Hutch knew Starsky wasn't sleeping well ever since the kidnapping. It had left his partner irritable and at the same time, slightly overactive. But that wasn't what worried him the most.

Starsky was scared.

Over the last few weeks, Hutch had been on the receiving end of a couple of angry outbursts, which were quickly followed by some of Starsky's near desperate attempts to have Hutch not leave him alone. Asking him for a bite to eat at two a.m. was such an attempt. Usually Hutch complied, but it didn't seem to help much. If anything, the more Hutch gave in, the more anxious his partner became.

Tired, he made his way upstairs, and reached for the key above his doorframe. He was about to unlock the front door when he froze. Then a smile started to tug at the corner of his mouth. Starsky had sped off the wrong way. He shook his head as he recalled the glint in his partner's eyes when Starsky had driven off. Grinning at the stubbornness of his curly haired partner, Hutch let himself in.

Starsky had gone straight to the all-night take-out joint.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 2 **

_Black robed figures were ganging up on him. The darkness only revealed their voices, but he could picture the black robes with the stitched on, upside down red cross, as clear as day, despite the blindfold. _

_"Simon, Simon, Simon…" _

_The voices grew steadily louder, a mantra coming from uncaring, zombie-like people driven by insanity, bestowing fear into the very core of his being. _

_He felt their determination, their calm hatred for him. He heard it in every tone of that two-syllable word. He was to die in the most painful way possible, simple. _

_"Simon, Simon, Simon…" _

_The voices closed in on him and he curled up in a ball, knowing what was to come. Between one 'Simon' and the next, the kickings and beatings began. He couldn't see anything. The dark kept unleashing its horrible pains on him. No warnings, no time to relax as the beatings continued. One after the other, sometimes seconds apart, sometimes it took minutes for them to start again. He never knew beforehand. He could only lay there in complete blindness, his body tensing up upon every 'Simon' he heard, trying to anticipate the next blow. _

_Someone took off his blindfold. Hutch was there and laughed at him, picking him up from the floor. "I just got myself another partner, partner. One who _is_ reliable, sensible," he sneered. _

_The words left him feeling utterly alone. His heart froze in fear as his faith in his partner's willingness to protect him came crashing down. He had no defence left against the harsh reality that wanted him dead. Hutch's face vanished. A bearded, twisted one replaced it. The man grabbed him roughly by the hair and spoke in a frightening cold voice. "At dawn, the dream is ending, Pig." _

Starsky gasped, for a moment frozen between being asleep and awake, as the dark of the bedroom surrounded him. Fear raced through him. Fear, and a severe pain in his abdomen. As he fought to wake up, he unconsciously connected the pain to Simon. Starsky found himself unable to move, believing the man had really beaten the crap out of him a few seconds ago.

But then he remembered the food he had eaten before going to bed. Anger set in and made him shake off the cold fingers of terror that were pinning him to the mattress. With a grunt he slowly sat up and buried his face in his hands. He sat there for a while, trying to let go of the vivid, horrific images of his nightmare.

"Shit," he cursed wholeheartedly.

As he started to feel somewhat awake, he got up to get to the kitchen. A severe cramp wouldn't let him. Dizzy with pain he sat back down again and sucked in his breath as the pangs brought back unpleasant memories. Already worked over by the nightmare, Starsky couldn't help but let the terror of the day that Vic Bellamy had poisoned him take hold of him.

As the memories came, so did the cold sweat of fear.

Shaking now he fumbled in the darkness for the phone, dialling a number he knew by heart. "Hutch," he whispered when his partner answered in a sleepy voice. "I think I need a doctor."

* * *

Hutch sat wearily in the waiting room while the doctor examined his partner. The room contained only two other occupants this early in the morning; a red haired woman in her thirties and a young girl who Hutch assumed was her daughter. Leaning his head back against the wall, Hutch looked at the girl with tired eyes.

The girl, maybe eight years old, spotted his stare, stopped playing with the toys in the toy area and walked up to him. Big green eyes, covered by an occasional red lock of hair, were curiously looking up at him. "Are you here to see the doctor too?"

Hutch lifted his head and smiled at her. "Nope, just waiting for a friend of mine."

"I have tummy aches. That's why I'm here, I'm on a … on a…" She looked over her shoulder to her mother.

"A diet, honey."

She nodded fiercely. "It's no fun at all; I'm not allowed to eat anything." She pouted.

Hutch looked up at the mother. "No, I guess it's not huh?"

The mother sighed. "Have you ever tried to keep an eight year old from eating all the stuff they like at that age?"

Hutch shook his head. The little girl returned to the play area and happily continued with what she'd been doing.

"Believe me," the mother said with a smile. "It's war at home."

Hutch felt a hard stone settle in the pit off his stomach. _He's not gonna put Starsk on a diet, is he?_ He grunted inside, as that would mean hell on earth for the both of them.

Before his thoughts could dwell on the matter, the doctor's door was roughly pulled open and his obviously wound up partner stalked out into the waiting room. Without a glance in Hutch's direction, Starsky yanked his jacket and his gun, carefully concealed underneath the jacket from the blond's hands and paced angrily out of the room.

Hutch muttered an "Excuse me" and quickly walked after him.

"Starsk, will you wait up!"

Starsky turned on the busy sidewalk and pierced his trailing partner with an accusing stare before mercilessly marching over to where they'd parked the LTD earlier. It took Hutch a couple of long strides to catch up with him.

"Starsk, what did he say?"

Starsky stopped rather abruptly as he put on his gun belt, adjusting it to fit neatly over his sweater. He pointed an angry finger at the door they'd just exited. "That man is a quack."

"You're on a diet, huh? That's not so bad Starsk, it's-"

While putting on his jacket, the brunet gave Hutch a look that could kill. The blond wisely swallowed the rest of the sentence. "Six weeks Hutch, six damned weeks!"

"Well…"

"It's easy for him to say. Just six weeks! Tell me, huh, how am I gonna live through six weeks without food?"

Hutch froze, fixing him with an incredulous stare. "He told you to stop eating for six weeks?"

"Not exactly. He told me my stomach is rather sensitive right now, what with the beatings and all, so…"

"So?"

"So I'm going to have to lay off the solid food. I'm only allowed to take in liquids. For six weeks!"

Hutch found his mouth was hanging open. Whatever he had expected the diet to be, this was not it. In another time and place he might have been terribly amused, but not now. To have to work with a partner who wasn't allowed to 'eat' anything was hard. To have to work with a Starsky who wasn't allowed to eat solids was just plain disastrous.

With an effort Hutch tried to lighten up the situation. "Liquids can be very nutritious too, you know."

Starsky pointed a finger at his chest. "Not in my book they ain't!" He paced away, grumpily pulled open the passenger door of the LTD and settled himself inside.

Hutch took a deep breath before entering the driver's side. "Six weeks, huh?" He said, trying to ignore the brooding man that now sat next to him and started the engine.

"Yup, six long foodless weeks, forty-two days. I'm never gonna survive this Hutch."

Hutch couldn't help but smile. Starsky had just survived the most extreme form of kidnapping, but somehow found the prospect of not getting at least one chilli dog once a day an insurmountable obstacle.

"Starsk, as long as you get all your proteins and vitamins, you'll be okay."

Starsky looked sideways. "I'm not you Hutch, I can't live on a mix of decimated livers."

"Desiccated, and hey, you might have to." Hutch couldn't help but grin as his partner's eyes went wide with realization.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You're _not_ gonna make me drink those concoctions of yours!"

"If you want to keep up that great stamina of yours, you've got no choice, buddy."

Starsky lowered his head in complete misery. "Oh God, why is this happening to me?"

"Cheer up partner." Hutch slapped the slummed form next to him on the knee and drove off. "It's not the end of the world."

"You're really enjoying this, are you?" Starsky retorted, arms crossed, looking for very much like the pouting child Hutch encountered earlier.

"Starsk, how can you say that?" Effortlessly blending in the LTD into early mornings' traffic, Hutch uttered one extra line with a straight face. "Besides if the livers don't work, we can always try the kelp-shakes."

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3 **

_Ever so slowly the body fell backwards into the calm, quiet waters of the pool. The loud splash didn't quite reach his ears, because the noise was being blocked out by the rushingsound of fear. For a fraction of a second the water seemed to resist the crude breaking of its surface. Then it relented, and hungrily, swallowed up the dead weight. _

_He watched in shock as the body sank to the bottom, watched, as the color of the water changed from a soothing blue to a frightening deep red. _

_Nooooo!_

Stef woke up with a gasp. The age-dust lying thickly on the white sheets surrounding him, swirled upwards at his sudden movement. Before he could help it, some of the dust-bunnies got caught in his mouth and he started to cough, helplessly, his eyes watering to clear his vision. _Where the hell am I? _Slowly it started to sink in.

The attic.

He was in an attic of a currently unoccupied house. Its owners were on vacation for the next two weeks and he'd made it his home for the short while that they were gone. Wiping the dust from his face, his attention was drawn towards the small attic window above him. The full moon outside cast the room in a white glow. He lowered his eyes to look at the ghostly shapes of the sheets. They covered up ancient furniture, junk and old boxes containing long forgotten memories. Nothing that was of any value to him, nothing he could use.

He lay back down on the rough rush mat he'd found and used as a mattress and closed his eyes. That splash. That loud splash. He could still hear it. The only thing managing to smother the watery noise was the loud bang, which had preceded it: the sound of a gun going off.

_Running, we had been running from the police. _A tear broke free and the wooden beams of the ceiling momentarily blurred.

Old fears had started to surface again, from the moment he'd nearly got caught today. The unwanted memories had plagued him for the rest of the evening and when he'd finally gone to sleep the dreams had come. This was the third time he'd woken up tonight.

The tear rolled down his cheek to drop silently onto the mat. _Damn cops! If only I'd gone with him, if only I hadn't been stupid enough to listen to him and go up. _

He and Will had just done some 'exploring' of a house similar to the one he was in now; its rich owners were gone for the weekend. It was essential to know little details like this if you wanted to survive on the streets. Sadly, the only valuable thing they found wasa kitchen cupboard, well stocked up with food. He remembered feeling elated at the prospect of finally going to have a decent meal. They'd stuffed the food in a duffel bag, and sneaked out again through a first floor window. _Damn cops. They had been waiting for us…_

In the early morning light, from his position at the window Will had seen the telltale outline of the two lawmen, hiding on the far side of the pool, moments before Stef did. _You pushed the bag into my hands and told me to go up... God, Will, why did I listen to you? _He sighed, his mind providing him with the answer a second later. It was a move, which had kept them alive so far: When the police were on your tail, go up. You know the roofs, the drop downs, the tricky surfaces. They don't. It was a rule he still used today.

Stef sighed. _If only he'd followed me up. _

Instead, Will had jumped down to draw their attention away from him and the food he was carrying. _Why did you have to be so damn chivalrous? Why…? _His thoughts halted with an inner sob, as the memory of a cold voice rang through his head. It was shouting at the lone figure, now making his way around the pool area.

"Freeze, Police!"

Stef had frozen on the roof; just as Will had done beneath him. The two cops had come out of hiding, guns trained on the elder thief. Stef couldn't see their faces, but he was sure Will could. He remembered the breath getting caught in his throat. He remembered silently begging Will to comply with their wishes, but he didn't.

_Why did you draw your knife, for God's sake? You didn't stand a chance. You must have known that? _

The question still haunted him. _I know you didn't like being cornered, but… you shouldn't have… _The cops had fired, two guns going off simultaneously, ending one life, and destroying a hidden one on the roof as Will had fallen backwards into that pool.

The bitter memory made the young thief bite his lip until he tasted blood. _Someday they will pay for what they've done. Cop or not, you can't just kill someone like Will, and get away with it. All we did was steal some food… it was pure survival. It still is. _

His thoughts turned bitter as he thought about today's events. Cops! He'd been far too lenient on them, always running instead of using his skills against them. They had killed Will, they didn't deserve his mercy. _Next time you two hotshots come after me, I won't be so chivalrous. _

_

* * *

_

Two weeks after Starsky's memorable appointment with the doctor, Hutch's calm, soothing nature was down the drain. If he'd thought having Starsky on a diet was going to be disastrous earlier, he was wrong. It was completely and utterly destructive for the both of them.

It wasn't all that obvious in the beginning. Starsky really put some effort into it and even borrowed Hutch's blender. To Hutch's dismay he used it to liquefy anything he could get his hands on, from burritos to chilidogs and drank it with his usual optimism.

But his partner was hungry. Not the simple slight pangs of the stomach, but really hungry. All of the time. The jealousy was written all over his face whenever he saw Hutch eating something, even if it was just a carrot. So Hutch stopped eating as well when Starsky was around. It was a small price to pay, but the looks of hunger Starsky threw him didn't change.

Hutch tried to keep his partner from cheating. On more than one occasion he had to snatch a donut or a candy bar from Starsky's hands. He also found himself driving his partner home during working hours to force the man to drink a health shake. Starsky yelled at him, but eventually let Hutch have his way, becoming somewhat acquiescent of the situation.

Hutch didn't like it.

A silent Starsky was three times worse than a complaining one and although everyone seemed to think his partner had regained some of his old self again, Hutch knew better. The angst was still there. So were the nightmares. Couple that with a famishing man and the resulting picture was frightening the hell out of him.

To Starsky's credit, he didn't let any of it affect their working relationship on the streets. Hutch admired him for that. _But how long can you keep this up, partner? _

He was busy doing some research on their latest case: two burglaries that had ended up in the murder of the unfortunate tenants present at the time. A sliced artery in the throat performed with surgical precision had caused both victims to bleed to death. So far the Detectives had no leads what so ever, even Huggy had uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.

Meticulously, he sifted through the results pathology had just given them. _It looks like the same man did all these killings, according to the lab, the incisions in the neck of both victims were probably done with the same knife. _

Hutch's eyes were suddenly drawn to his partner, who sat across from him at the table typing a report. He frowned.

The sound of fingers hitting the keys ceased, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. "What are you looking at?"

"You're shaking," he replied in a lowered voice.

"Yep."

That was it, nothing more. No explanation. It drove Hutch crazy. There wasn't any anger at all. "Starsky…"

His partner resumed his typing. He didn't look up as he spoke, his tone aloof. "Stop doing that."

"What?"

"Watching me all the time. I'm all right"

Hutch knew this might not be the right time or place to knock some sense into the man, but the emotionless state his partner was in, drove him crazy. Touring their beat was done in silence, no laughter, no anger, no nothing. The passion in Starsky's eyes was slowly dwindling, like a dying torchlight. And it was affecting Hutch on a deep emotional level.

He leaned in, careful to speak softly so the other four detectives currently occupying the squad room couldn't overhear their conversation. His words were harsh none the less. "You're _not_ all right."

Starsky kept silent. He stopped typing; staring at the report he had just filled out.

Hutch was sure his smaller counterpart wasn't reading one word of it. Against his better judgement Hutch continued to push. "It's not just the food is it?"

"Shut up."

"Starsky, I know you're scared."

Starsky grabbed the coffee cup and drank a sip, his fingers nearly squashing the paper cup in pent-up frustration.

"You think I don't know how you feel? The nightmares, the anxiety? What the hell are you so afraid of?"

"Shut… up…" Starsky whispered fiercely, anger now colouring the words.

"Finally, some anger." Hutch hissed.

Starsky looked up at him, his eyes filled with barely contained rage. He stood up abruptly and in a few strides had walked out of the room. The other detectives looked up at his departure, suddenly becoming aware of the words the two men were having. Hutch hung his head. This was getting them nowhere. Sighing but determined, he stood up to go after his partner.

He had barely left the squad room when his arm was taken in a firm grip that roughly turned him around and threw him backwards. The connection with the nearby wall knocked the wind out of him. The unsuspected hostile words coming from his partner added to his shock.

"You're pushing me, _buddy_. And I… don't… like it!"

Hutch, normally not taking this from anybody, froze at the outburst.

Starsky squeezed the arm a little harder as he continued in anger. "What d' you hope to accomplish with your little words of wisdom back there, huh? I told you I'm all right!"

"Starsk, you're hurting me…"

As if bitten by a snake, his partner let him go, but there was no remorse in his eyes.

Hutch visibly shivered at the coldness in those eyes. Starsky had _never_ turned on him before and the blond couldn't help but look confusedly at his partner. For a moment Hutch had sensed something in the brunet that he didn't like at all.

Starsky heaved as if the outburst had taken an excessive amount of energy. The wild look in his eyes slowly left him as he apparently regained control over himself. He took a few steps back, then pointed a finger at his partner. "You want me to become real angry? Show my feelings? You don't know what you're asking pal."

Hutch didn't answer, just closed his eyes and looked down. This went so much deeper then he'd thought. He had not expected this, but could do nothing other then let Starsky take it out on him.

However, Hutch's lack of reaction didn't go down too well with his partner. Starsky was on him again in a second, pinning him once again against to the wall with dreadful force, one arm cutting off his airway. The fact that Starsky didn't even raise his voice when he spoke made him sound that much more frightening, "You hear me? Don't play those games with me, don't push me."

Hutch couldn't help it, the fear lashed through him. He tried to fight his partner off, but Starsky turned out to be remarkably sturdy in his anger. It was like trying to move a wall of cement. "Starsk…" He managed to whisper in clear fright.

His partner stopped ranting as the word broke through his unleashed anger. Realization about what he was doing dawned in his eyes and Starsky let go with a gasp.

"God, Hutch… I…"

The silence between them hung like a sword in the air.

Hutch, catching his breath, pushed away the fear and angst that kept him pinned against the wall and put one hand on the shaking one of his partner, who now stared at the floor. "It's okay. Starsk… It's okay."

But it wasn't. Inwardly Hutch still shook in fright over what had just happened and he knew Starsky felt the same. He felt it pulsing through the shaking hands he now held in his. Hutch knew very well Starsky always spared him his feelings, especially his anger. Only now did he realize how much effort that had cost his friend lately. He looked at him; feeling utterly drained and decided things needed some lifting up. "Come on. You need to eat."

At that Starsky looked up in surprise. "Eat?"

Hutch gave a thin smile. "Yeah, you know what it means to eat, right? Come on."

He dragged a dumbfounded Starsky after him to the cantina.

Hutch placed him at a table and went looking for something in the kitchen, returning after a while with a steaming bowl of soup, filled with soft meat and vegetables. "Eat it."

Starsky stared at him, then back at the soup.

"If you eat it and be a good boy, I promise I'll arrange for you to get this here every day."

Slowly Starsky started eating, then stopped. "Hutch…"

"Just eat partner."

A glint of the old Starsky appeared in the cobalt blue eyes as he looked over the steaming soup at Hutch in a genuine gratified way. "Thanks."

Hutch nodded and left his partner. He headed up the stairs and stood quietly at the top for one moment. He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the paralysing fear that had taken hold of him the moment Starsky had charged at him. With a deep sigh he headed back to the squad room.

* * *

tbc


	2. Liquids chapter 4 and 5

Thank you for all the kind reviews. Also a big thanks and hug to those of you who keep me encouraged in writing this story.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4**

Stef stepped away from the body. He had what he'd come here for. It was unfortunate that he'd also found the current tenant, but that wasn't his problem. Silently he slipped out the back door and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Taking a sip of his beer Hutch eyed the bartender suspiciously from his position at the end of the bar. "Huggy, is there something going on you're not telling me?"

"There's always something going on I'm not telling you. I'm walkin' a fine line here you know."

"Four break-ins in the past four weeks, that's four killings Hug. We need that kid."

"Aw, what do you want with him my man? He didn't do anything."

Hutch rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Sure, he's as innocent as a new born baby. Tell that to the half a dozen people in this area alone he robbed. Not to mention the ones he uses as pick-pocketing practice."

"Be that as it may, I can't give him to you."

Hutch slammed his fist on the table in sudden anger. "_Why_ are you protecting him?"

"Hey, hey, easy my man. Boy, are you cranky without your better half."

Hutch chose to ignore that last remark. Yes, he was cranky. He would never admit it to Starsky but his friend's attempt to choke him two weeks ago had severely shocked his nerves and somehow he couldn't get it out of his system.

"Huggy," he tried again mustering some calmness from deep within. "We chased him up an alley four weeks ago, right after he robbed a woman's summer house clean at sea view point. She was murdered. Now what makes you think this kid's clean?

To his surprise the bartender leaned in, his expression turning very serious. "Hutch, you start poking in the life of a thief? A professional one? You get burned. Believe me. You don't know what you're messing with."

Hutch sat back and threw a hand in the air. "I'm a cop. It's my job to poke. The kid Hug…"

With a deep sigh his friend finally relented. "Corner of Broadway and Fifth. Tomorrow. Oh and Hutch…?"

Already halfway out the door Hutch turned.

"Be careful, your treadin' on dangerous turf here."

Hutch gave him an acknowledging nod and left.

* * *

Feeling like he'd just run a marathon Starsky picked up one of Hutch's concoctions which his partner had so generously left in his fridge for him to drink. The sun had barely risen and he felt drained already. The past night had been like any other night in the previous four weeks, full of unwanted and terrifying dreams. And they had worsened significantly after his aggressive encounter with his partner

Lifting the white substance close to his mouth, he somehow couldn't muster the energy to actually drink it. Sighing he put the glass down again and looked over at the wall clock. Hutch would be picking him up soon. Feeling the anger beginning to stir again he sat down on the couch in an attempt to get his unlocked emotions under control and lowered his head into his hands.

He could still see Hutch's face when he had pinned the blond to the wall two weeks ago. He hadn't meant to come on so strong, but it just happened. And Hutch had been too shocked to fend him off. Starsky shook his head while taking a deep breath. In that instance he'd seen nothing but a red blur and he'd gone for the kill. He knew that if his partner hadn't gotten through to him…

He wasn't sure if Hutch had been aware of that. Starsky hadn't talked about it afterwards as it scared him to death. Of course his partner would take the first blows, simply because he was always there. But that left Hutch very vulnerable. In that one terrifying moment when he was about to choke the blond, Starsky had seen the ugliness of fear and anger in all its glory.

He leant backwards and cursed. _What the hell's happening to me?_ He thought, trying to find a foothold in the sea of liquid that was once comfortable, solid ground.

Despite Hutch's constant caring, Starsky hadn't eaten much in the last few days. He found it hard to hold anything down. Somewhere deep down he knew that the lack of food was partially responsible for the way he felt now. The whole thing just added to his frustration. He felt like his body was rebelling and there was nothing he could do about it.

A knock on the door shook him out his reverie.

"Yeah?"

Hutch entered. As in the previous days his presence brought some peace to his turmoil inside, but Starsky wondered how long it would be before that would no longer be enough.

"Hey."

Starsky couldn't help but smile. "Ya, I'm coming." He walked over to his holster and jacket and put them on. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his partner noticing the full glass he'd put in the sink. To Starsky's relief the blond kept silent about it. Hutch had stopped pushing, just as Starsky had asked. Or more accurately had demanded of him.

He pulled open the front door and let his partner walk past him to the LTD. The Torino stood abandoned at the curve. It saddened Starsky a bit, but they were about to go on a stake out and his car was far too conspicuous.

Hutch stopped for a moment just as he was about to enter his car. "Starsky?"

Starsky looked up at him from over the top of the brown car roof.

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

Staring at him for a few seconds, the brunet couldn't deny the worry that coloured the words. For a moment his partner looked as tired as Starsky felt right now. _Damn, if I'm not careful I'm gonna drag him down with me._ "Well, you know me. Dying with my boots on and all."

"Come on Starsk, that's not funny. Now, you're either with me or your not. It's your call."

Hutch's short temper wasn't all that surprising, considering the hard time Starsky had been giving him in the last few weeks. He nodded with determination. 'I'm in' and entered the passenger's site.

* * *

"Hutch, it's him!"

"Where?"

"Right over…," Starsky pointed, moving his finger in an arc as he bulls-eyed the young man, walking up to them, "…there."

"Wait until he's closer," Hutch urged.

He nodded in consent, already focused on his prey. It was the same boy Starsky had lost when he had frozen in front of the alley way over four weeks ago.

All of a sudden the kid stopped, eyeing the car suspiciously. He took three steps back, turned and ran.

"He made us. Go!" Hutch yelled.

They flew out of the LTD and ran after him.

As he ran Starsky pulled his gun, but refrained from aiming as the streets were crowded with innocent bystanders. Hutch was a couple of feet behind him when their target suddenly crossed the street.

Dodging cars with honking horns Starsky managed to follow the kid. Without looking back he knew his partner had no such luck when a green light and a heavy traffic rush blocked the street, keeping Hutch from joining him.

Starsky pushed on, following the boy into an alleyway where the kid went quickly up some iron stairs, heading for the roof of a large hotel. He disappeared before the Detective could shout another warning.

Without hesitation the brunet grabbed hold of the iron rods of the stairwell and pulled himself up. He had no idea how far his partner was behind, or if Hutch was even able to follow their trail at all, but Starsky knew he couldn't wait for him. Not if he didn't want this one to give them the slip yet again.

Working his way up the stairs, Starsky made the mistake of looking down. Hutch wasn't anywhere in sight, but through the iron maze of the stairs, the concrete floor far beneath it suddenly seemed to beckon at him. The stairs turned to liquid as a spell of vertigo hit him. He flung himself against an iron support rod, trying to fight the irrational fear that threatened to overwhelm him. _Damn, I don't have time for this right now._

Succeeding in getting his fears under tight control, Starsky moved on and carefully, gun still drawn, peeked over the edge of the rooftop and stared at it in disbelieve. _Terrific, someone decided to relocate Hutch's greenhouse! _

He cursed inwardly as numerous plants, pots and garden ornaments blocked his way. The decorator had really gone all out on this one, creating a jungle with wooden paths that went off in mysterious directions. The paths all disappeared in what appeared to be a dense woodland area. _Jesus, how big is this roof? _

Starsky eyed the surroundings for a moment. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He had underestimated this little thief. The kid had known this roof garden was here. Proceeding with a bit more caution, Starsky jumped softly on the wooden decking and started to follow one of the paths. Suddenly he spotted the kid trying to pry open a door accessing the building.

"Freeze, Police!"

The kid ducked behind a tree and Starsky lost his aim when the teenager managed to disappear in the foliage. _A damn tree! Which idiot had the dumb idea to plant trees on this rooftop? _

The sound of running footsteps crossing a hard, hollow surface drew his attention. Starsky ran towards it, cutting a path through some bushes. With a splash he stepped into a shallow inlayed pond.

_Shit! _

Angry at being out smarted by a teenager he barged through the water to the other side and spotted the kid disappearing behind what looked like a chimney in the distance. With soggy sneakers and wet feet Starsky headed towards it.

The foliage however was deceptive and the building turned out to be far bigger than he had initially imagined. Without any warning the plants suddenly gave way to a large open space. The moment he heard a hollow sound coming from beneath his squashy feet, he knew he had made a mistake.

* * *

Stef cursed to himself as he ran across the roof. This had better work. He ducked behind a chimney, just in time to see the dark haired detective, Starsky, crossing the same section of roof he had just past.

With satisfaction he saw the Detective looking down and nearly tripping in shock.

A skylight covering the entire width of the building stretched out beneath his feet. This part of the roof was made of pure glass. Stef knew that all the brunet could see was the floor of the large hallway.

Five stories down.

Just as Stef had anticipated Starsky froze, suddenly realizing where he was standing. Stef saw the air getting caught in the man's throat as his fear of heights took over. He saw the Detective starting to shake like a leaf, apparently trying to control a rise in panic. Stef waited, for that one moment when Starsky would close his eyes. He drew his knife. The moment came.

Being skilled enough to hit and kill a target with one throw of a knife wasn't something he was very proud of. But right now it would keep him alive. He thought of Will, and cold revenge took over. As silent as a ghost, he came out of hiding and raised the knife.

"STARSKY!"

The blond's high-pitched panicked scream startled the hell out of Stef, and he momentarily lost his focus. The cry seemed to echo in his head, merging with the memory of a scream he himself had once yelled. How he remembered the pain, the emptiness that had followed from the moment Will had been shot.

Stef's eyes shot over the blond, emerging from the foliage on the other side of the building. He froze for an instant as he kept hearing the blond's scream … and the care locked within it.

Starsky rolled in reflex.

The Detective came up out of his roll and aimed straight at him. Stef's eyes flicked back to him. For a moment their worlds met. Brown eyes piercing blue ones. Instinct for survival taking over, the young thief squinted and lifted the knife with deadly accuracy. He wasn't fast enough, not this time. Starsky recognized the movement for what it was and pulled the trigger…

The noise was deafening, but that was all it was, deafening noise. He stared at the man in front of him who had missed as the Detective had clearly been hit by a bout of dizziness. Stef didn't stop to ask questions. He gave Will a small 'thank you' and took the opportunity to make a run for it. Before long he had managed to elude the blond one and escaped.

* * *

"You missed…"

"Yeah, so?"

"Starsky, you missed him, that kid could've killed you!"

"C'mon, quit with the worries and the concerns will you? I told you …"

Hutch didn't wait for Starsky to finish his sentence. Scare resonated behind the anger in his voice as the blond abruptly interrupted him. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

Starsky shrugged loosely and paced away angry. He didn't want to be comforted right now. He felt anxious, angry and so frustrated he wanted to scream out loud and he was afraid that if he let Hutch near, he would vent his anger onto him.

"Eaten? You mean real food? The stuff you can sink your teeth in? Oh well, lets see? About four weeks ago."

Hutch didn't move and instead just glared at him. "You know damn well, what I mean! You haven't been drinkin' any of the stuff have you?"

"And what if I haven't partner? I told you, I'm not you!"

"Starsk, you can't go on days on end without nutrition! You missed him for crying out loud! What if he'd used that knife! What if he hadn't run away?"

Starsky couldn't stop the anger from boiling. Hutch yelling at him slowly pushed him beyond a point he vowed he would never cross again. The last time he felt like this was when his father had died. He was an angry kid with no direction or purpose in life. His days were filled with trying to vent it, wanting to vent it. And when his mother had sent him over to his Aunt Rosie, she had a hard time at first of keeping him in check. He'd been having dreams back then too. Anger riddled with fear had consumed his days.

Ever so slowly he had managed to give all the excessive energy direction and purpose. And slowly he'd gotten got the feelings of pent up frustration that had cumulated in anxiety attacks and angry outbursts under control. They were always there, but they were manageable.

Until now.

He felt as if he was in a roller coaster ride, going down. And he was mortally afraid of the cart running down Hutch in the process.

Hutch didn't know how angry he could become. How awfully out of control his anxiety attacks could make him. He'd met Hutch after his crisis was over and to a certain extent the blond was the reason Starsky managed to keep his temper under control. This was an ugly part of him he'd never fully shown his partner; because he knew that if he did, there was a chance his emotional turmoil could seriously hurt the blond. That's why he never allowed himself to get angry with Hutch and Starsky had learned to always turn the other cheek. But he couldn't stop himself now.

He paced over to face his partner while putting his gun away, spitting out his words and looking Hutch straight in the eye. "And I told you once before, maybe you should look for another partner, if you won't, don't hold me responsible for the consequences."

It was as if he had slapped Hutch in the face. He saw it, he felt it. But Hutch didn't back down. Not this time. This time a side of the Hutchinson family trade hardness surfaced and it made Starsky flinch.

"You want me to leave you alone?" The voice was devoid of any warmth. "To walk out of here and let you wallow in self pity?"

"Self pity?"

"Yes, self pity! Damn you Starsk. Forget it! I will NEVER leave you alone, you hear me.

Do you really think I don't know what you're going through right now? The hurt, the anger the fear!"

Starsky stared at him.

"The _fear_ Starsk, I know about that. I've been there remember? So, no. Sorry. Request denied."

Blue blazing eyes pierced the darker ones. Starsky felt himself calm down somewhat. As strange as it sounded Hutch's harsh words made him pull himself together up to a point of control.

"Fine. You wanna get yourself killed? Suit yourself." Starsky turned and marched away; feeling slightly unsettled that this was exactly what would happen if things didn't change soon.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5 **

Pulling off the white linen sheet, Hutch immediately noticed the sliced artery in the neck. The floorboards beneath the fallen body were a reddish black color, dried blood, which had soaked into the creeks of the wood.

The house he was in was located in a neighbourhood, which was famous for its vigilant neighbourhood watch system. Nothing exciting ever happened around here, not for the last ten years. No burglaries and certainly no murders. Hutch was sure that if he would bother to look into it, not one of these upstanding citizens even had so much as a parking-ticket. Still, they hadn't been able to stop these killings from happening any more than the rest of Bay cities occupants had.

Tiredly, Hutch ran a hand over his eyes. He hadn't slept well at all, and Dobey's phone-call at five in the morning had come as a relief. Since his partner badly needed the rest, Hutch had decided to take this one alone.

_An ordinary thief… Again. _Or so the next door neighbour claimed, who'd pointed out that several valuable gold statues were missing from the glass showcase in the hallway.Hutch stepped aside to let a crime scene investigator do his work. _It doesn't make sense._ _The autopsy reports on the previous victims all proved the sliced artery to be the cause of death, and this case appears to have the same m.o., but there's hardly any blood on the floor. _"Captain?"

Dobey made his way toward him, and frowned when Hutch checked the floorboards beneath the victim. "It's a remarkably clean kill," Dobey stated, gruffly.

"Yes…" Hutch pondered, "Do me a favor, Captain? Have pathology figure out the amount of blood missing from the body."

"Why? Isn't it obvious what killed him?"

"It's just a hunch I'm having, Cap." Carefully, Hutch took the sheet in both hands, and covered up the victim again.

"Consider it done. By the way, where is that partner of yours?"

Rubbing his hands together, Hutch stood up to face his superior, "Still not feeling a hundred percent, I'm afraid."

"Hmpf," Dobey grunted, "The day he'll be finished with that diet will be none too soon for me. Did you know he put an out of order sign on the candy bar machine, yesterday? The thing wasn't even broken! The whole department is suffering, because of him."

Hutch barely managed to hide his smile. "Just two more weeks, Captain," he said, slapping Dobey on the shoulder, before walking out. _Just two more weeks_, he mumbled to himself.

* * *

_The Altar was covered in blood. The carefully inlayed golden figures were barely visible between the dark fluids seeping unhindered down the curves of the stone altar onto the wooden floor. _

_Candles and chandeliers cast their lights upon the holy images that decorated the inside of the church, giving the place a deceptively warm welcome. He felt safe. Then his eyes fell upon the hands that were tied down to the altar with thick pieces of rope. And his world of safety shattered into a thousand pieces as all he could see was the outline of a man lying face up on the top of the altar. _

_Starsky trembled visibly as each footstep brought him closer to a sight his mind did not want to register. First he recognized the green shirt his partner had been wearing, then the blond strands of hair and finally the face, seemingly sleeping, looking far too peaceful in the horrific scene that unfolded itself in front of Starsky's eyes. He stretched out a trembling hand. Hutch was dead. _

_Untold feelings of grief and guilt boiled to the surface, mastered him and consumed him. _

_A noise made him whip around. From out of the dark corners of the pews and black recesses of the church, shadows approached him. Simon's robed followers closed in on him. Overcome with anger, Starsky grabbed a candlestick. The large wax candle inside it kept burning, illuminating a circle containing him and Hutch. The followers chanted and Starsky stepped forward, swinging the heavy brass candlestick around with a yell. Where the circle of light hit the closing shadows a robe burst into flames. Starsky backed off. _

_And they kept coming. _

_Standing in his partner's blood in front of the altar, the voices were clearly audible above the hissing of the flames. "Simon needs him, stand aside. Simon needs him." _

_"You can't have him!" His eyes filled with tears, the chanting stopped. The circle of hooded man and women respectfully froze just outside the reach of the fiery circle cast by the single flame in the candleholder. He gripped it with both hands. _

_One of them took a step forwards. A cold male voice spoke and seemed to dim the light of the surrounding candles with each icy word. "We need him, he's ours, he was meant to be the chosen one. You're just a lost soul, lost in the light. Simon bids you to stand aside." _

_"You want him?" Starsky said hoarse. "You'll have to go through me!" _

_Knifes, they had knifes. The points of steel were already dark with spilled blood, his partner's blood. _

_"Come on, you sick perverts!" His raged anger challenged them, fear and grief giving him a possessed strength. The circle stepped forward in unity, the dark swallowing up the light as they did. _

_ A mantra resided in his ears. "He's the first of a hundreds, thousands, millions…" _

_"COME ON!" He shouted in hatred. _

_And they came. _

_Darkness closed in and he lashed out, putting every ounce of his being in a forceful blow. And he hit something… hard. _

* * *

"Starsky wake up, come on buddy. Wake up."

Hutch desperately tried to shake his partner into the waking world, the worry edged deeply into the lines of his face. _This has gone on long enough._ Whatever happened next, Starsky had to face his fears and Hutch would see to it that he would.

After leaving Benson's house he'd gone straight to Starsky's place and had let himself in, determined to feed the stubborn man, with force if necessary. He had found Starsky asleep on the couch, obviously caught in a horrific nightmare.

His partner stopped thrashing about and slowly woke up.

"That's it buddy, just-"

Without any warning Starsky suddenly opened his eyes. Grief and anger hit Hutch and before he could question the intense feelings he read in his friend's eyes, his partner released all those emotions in one punch, hitting Hutch full force in the face.

Totally taken off guard Hutch's body snapped back with the intensity of the blow. He smashed against the back wall, bounced off and crashed through a glass table. Shards cut in his flesh, a piece ripped open a major artery moments before he hit his head on the iron table frame and darkness took him.

* * *

Waking up, Starsky looked at his clenched fist in a dreamlike state. Slowly, as if in a rerun, his gaze shifted over to his partner lying between what was left of the table. Face down, blood smearing the hands, the black turtleneck, the blond hair. Almost instantaneously realization and horror set in.

_Oh God, no, no, no…_

"Hutch!" He shook himself out of his stupor and in two steps rushed over to his partner's side. With fingers still painful from the blow, Starsky carefully touched the arm the blond had held out in reflex when he collided with the table. An ugly piece of glass protruded from a deep gash in the wrist and the wound bled profusely.

Shaking, feeling as if he had woken up into his nightmare Starsky grabbed a table cloth and wrapped it around the arm. The bleeding stopped. He ran a hand through the blond strands of hair and stared at his fingers in shock. They were covered in blood.

Not daring to turn his partner around he desperately reached for the phone that had stood on the broken table. Trembling, he called for an ambulance. Then he sat back, utterly defeated and closed his eyes. He shook his head. _God, what have I done…?_

He could still hear the chanting from his dreams, icy words that had found a way into his heart and into his soul.

_Simon, Simon, Simon…_

* * *

Tbc. 


	3. Liquids chapter 6

I know some of you waited a long time for this update. All I can say if you're still with me is thanks for the waiting and for encouraging me to keep writing. Elsa: Dank! Wuemsel: THANKS. And Strut, a big HUG to you. Oh and Jill, thanks for the bush! You all gave me the direction I needed for this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 6 **

A cold draft drifted along the grey stone walls. The assassin tried to ignore the smell that came with it. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw the heavy robed figure taking a sip from the source of that smell. As much as Marcel enjoyed the killings and was an expert at silent assassinations, he could never get used to this.

In the dim candle light of the old abandoned church, he could see the red liquid trickling down the corners of the figure's mouth. The man smacked his lips together before looking down into the empty paper cup. "It's nice, but it's not enough."

Marcel peeped at him from out of the candle lid recess he'd positioned himself in to clean his knife. "Well, it's all you're going to get. It was difficult enough obtaining this much."

"I need a steady source," the voice growled dangerously low.

Aggravated, Marcel stopped rubbing the steal blade with a dirty cloth. "That can only be accomplished by bringing someone in here. It's far too dangerous. The cops are suspicious enough as it is."

"Bring me Stef."

A hiss of warning escaped the killer's mouth. "Stef? I can't do that. You know he's protected."

The man stepped slowly forwards, crushing the paper cup, blood drops splashing on his white robe, staining the elaborate embroidered yellow and black symbols. "Then bring me someone else, assassin, someone who won't succumb to my um… needs in the first week."

Marcel met the cold green eyes with the warm blue ones of his own. "It's suicide. These two cops they put on our trail? They're healthily respected where I come from. They don't make mistakes. If we snatch someone now, it'll only be a matter of time before they track us down."

The light in the green eyes started to dance in anticipation. "They sound… worthy."

A smile tugged at the killer's mouth. "You're asking me to bring you a cop?"

"Or two."

"I'll get right on it." With only a slight rush of fabric Marcel disappeared into the tunnel.

* * *

Slowly dark made way for light. The return of his senses coincided with the awareness of a tremendous headache. Moving to shield his eyes against the cold, harsh light surrounding him, Hutch found his arm to be oddly heavy. Squinting, he studied it and to his surprise found his lower right arm wrapped in sturdy, white bandages.

"Hey."

His eyes flew to the source of the familiar voice. Starsky was sitting at his bedside. The deep concern was evident on his face. Hutch tried to reach for him with his bandaged arm but somehow failed halfway through the motion. Starsky caught the faltering hand, hesitantly.

Though not yet coherent enough to utter a single word, the blond sensed something was wrong. He vaguely started to acknowledge his surroundings. He was in a hospital.

Then the whole thing came flooding back to him. However, instead of pulling back, Hutch clenched his partner's hand more tightly in sudden realization. He looked at the ceiling as his blue eyes quietly watered with a single tear.

* * *

The sudden show of raw emotion shook Starsky more than any harsh words ever could. He'd expected anger, hurt, perhaps even some bitterness coming from his partner.

Any or all of the above he had anticipated. Knowing Hutch, the blond would never let him hear the end of it and quite frankly Starsky felt like he deserved it. So he'd been ready to face whatever Hutch would throw at him.

But he hadn't expected a reaction like this.

What he saw was a little boy. One that was usually hidden beneath layers of love, sophistication, intelligence and the stern believes of a hardened street cop.

Hutch didn't give his trust easily. Starsky knew that all too well and the brunet's worst fear wasn't some creep named Simon beating the crap out of him, it wasn't the torture and pain he'd undergone. It wasn't even the dreams and consequences his life had been riddled with since then.

It was lying in front of him.

The blond boy that had trusted him couldn't stop the tear anymore than he could stop the setting of the sun.

The bitter truth of his own actions sank in. Starsky was afraid to move. He knew he should. He knew Hutch needed the space, although the blond's hand clung to him with a desperate iron grip. But he couldn't move as he was caught between the love for his partner and the need to protect him.

And in the second that it took for Hutch to regain his senses once more and bury the now hurt little boy deep within him, Starsky made his decision.

* * *

Struggling to compose himself Hutch swallowed a couple of times. Slowly the grown-up took control over the little boy again as the small drop of liquid dried on the warm face.

Hutch turned his head to answer his partner. "Hey yourself."

Starsky smiled, but to Hutch's growing concern, the brunet kept his distance. The blond studied him, before pulling him in closer with his right hand. Only then did his partner carefully put his free hand upon Hutch's injured arm.

"Your morning moodiness stinks, Starsk," he said hoarsely.

"Yeah," his partner concurred, but refused to look him in the eye. "How are you feeling?"

Hutch released his partner from his grip and Starsky pulled back a bit. The blond closed his eyes against the pounding headache. "Well, apart from my head feeling like a water-melon, I think I'm gonna live."

Through closed eyes Hutch sensed Starsky moving away. He instantly pinpointed the heart of the matter and muttered, "It's okay, I forgive you."

No answer came.

Mustering enough strength to bring some punch to his words Hutch lifted his head to find his partner staring out the window. "Starsky, will you listen to me?"

Unwillingly, his partner turned and leaned back against the windowsill. The answer came in a far too calm voice. "I could've killed you, Hutch."

For a moment Starsky looked quite vulnerable and lost.

"Buddy, you'd have to hit me a lot harder than that, besides-" he abruptly stopped, when a huge palm bush at the foot of his bed attracted his attention. It entirely covered the small room from floor to ceiling. "Starsky, what is _that_?" Somehow it didn't feel like it belonged in here.

Starsky followed his gaze and shrugged. "It's a plant. I thought you might like to have someone to talk to when I'm gone; the doc says he wants to keep you overnight, just to be sure."

From previous experiences, Hutch immediately jumped to the right conclusion. "Just a concussion, huh?"

"Yeah," Starsky answered softly. "A slight concussion, a cut through the artery, and a slightly torn ligament in your right wrist. That's gonna hurt for a while, by the way."

Hutch moved his arm in view to look at it, but then his eyes were drawn to the bush again. He looked at it incredulously. "It's huge," he whispered. "Did you haul all that with you in the Torino?"

Starsky turned to face the outside world again. "Not exactly. I stole it from the hallway."

A smile forced itself on Hutch's lips, but his grin immediately sent his headache through the roof, causing his chuckling to end in a moan.

A silence fell in the room, making the blond turn his head towards his partner. "You wanna talk about it?"

Starsky threw a hand in the air. "There's nothing to say. I'm just… I'm tired. I'm sick of all the weirdoes and creeps trying to crawl their way into my system.

Hutch was quiet for a while; then he tried to pull himself up a bit. "Buddy, you love the streets. You love being a cop, making a difference…" He winced as he inadvertently had put some weight onto his bandaged arm, while trying to rest his head on his left hand. "What are you so afraid off?"

The words seemed to trigger something in his partner, for he abruptly turned and marched over to the bed. His voice was slightly high pitched, showing barely contained emotions. "Hutch, I nearly killed you! Isn't that enough?"

"No!" Hutch stated harshly. "No, it's not enough."

"Twice!"

Hutch wanted to say something but his partner moved away again. He closed his mouth, trying to control his own feelings before saying anything more. "So, you're angry and scared… welcome to the club, partner…"

Starsky kept his silence. Hutch could tell the built-up tension was eating his partner again. Taking a deep breath, Hutch got out of bed, carefully putting his feet on the floor. It wasn't so bad. The damage seemed to be quite superficial. He was grateful for that.

He stood up and walked over to his partner.

Starsky turned in anger. "What are you doing? Get back into bed!"

The cotton clogging his head due to the light concussion made it easier for Hutch to ignore his partner's demand, and to just move on instinct, not having to think too much about it. Which was just as well, because right now he wouldn't be able to count to ten if he wanted to. He reached out and grabbed his partner's arm. Starsky shook himself loose.

"Starsk…"

Starsky met his eyes. "Don't you get it partner?" He stated softly. "One punch in the right place? One hit in the neck, in the right place…and_ you're_ gone. And I came _this_ close."

"Starsky you didn't do all of that… You didn't-,"

"DAMMIT, DON'T YOU GET IT!" In an uncontrolled bout of anger Starsky grabbed a piece of pottery from the windowsill, smashing it onto the floor into a thousand pieces.

Flinching, Hutch covered his face with his left arm in reflex. He took a step back. His partner stared at him as the blond tried to recover from his reaction to Starsky's sudden outburst.

"Yes, I _can _kill ya, just like that. Old Uncle Sam taught me that…" He stepped over to Hutch. Inches from his face Hutch met his partner's eyes as Starsky stated coldly, "And I'd rather quit the force and walk away from you now, before I'd ever let that happen." The brunet tore himself away and marched out of the room, leaving his partner to take a shaking breath.

* * *

Tbc 


	4. Liquids chapter 7

I had planned to post this chapter together with chapter 6, but since it needed a bit more editing I decided to post chapter 6 first. Wuemsel, Strut, thanks for the continuing support!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7 **

Slamming open the door to the men's room, Starsky burst inside He started pacing around in anger a couple of times, before stopping in front of the mirror, leaning onto the basin. Two blue squinting eyes, shrouded by bitterness, stared back at him. _Look at me,_ _I look like hell. _

He opened the faucet and splashed cool water on his face. Not until then did he notice his hands were shaking.

Searching deep inside he knew he was terrified of loosing Hutch. But when he'd seen the silent cry of broken trust and the consequent fear he had instilled in his partner as he had lost his temper again, he knew he had to walk away. If only to keep Hutch safe.

But breaking a partnership, a relationship they had for years sure as hell wasn't easy.

He looked up into the mirror again, spotting a few salty tears trickling down his cheeks. Angry he kicked the metal bin underneath the wash basin. Its contents went flying across the room as the bin clattered against the white tiled wall, bounced back and came to a halt next to the entrance.

A feeling of claustrophobic fear suddenly took hold of him. Refusing to let it take control, Starsky stood there for a while, shaking all over. Feeling utterly drained, he finally sank down on the floor against the back wall.

Looking up when the door opened, he was surprised to see his partner coming in. Hutch stopped briefly when their eyes met, before turning around to close the door. Although he was happy to see him Starsky cursed inwardly. _Damn, I should've known he'd be coming after me, especially after that little scene in his room just now. T'riffic, he shouldn't even be walking around with a head wound like that. _

Hutch was talking to someone on the other side of the door. "Go find another room, huh?" After an indistinct answer, his partner all but gently pushed the person back. "Sir, I don't care if you have to walk ten floors with that leg cast, you're _not_ getting in here." He roughly closed the door in the person's face and turned to frown at his friend.

"That was cruel," Starsky couldn't help but saying.

"Yeah well, you oughta see me when I get really angry."

A smile escaped the brunet. "Yeah, your eyes become real beautiful, blondie." He frowned as he noticed the pale complexion and the slightly wobbling steps. "Ya know, strolling around hallways with this concussion of yours is not such a bright idea. "Your head must be killing you. Go to bed, I'll be all right."

Hutch gave him an icy stare, obviously not intending to go anywhere even though he did feel like crap. He moved to pick up the bin and its contents, carefully putting it underneath the basin. He shifted his focus on Starsky again. "Wanna tell me what's going on here?"

"Nothin's going on. I just need some space, that's all." Starsky answered, determined to keep his feelings under control this time.

Hutch looked away, thinking. He bit his lip, obviously not buying any of it.

"Look," Starsky tried more convincingly. "I got angry…and… I'm sorry I scared ya, but,-"

"Starsky don't play me for a fool. There's a lot more going on here and you know it!"

"Look, will ya please let it go, it's no big deal."

The blond threw his uninjured hand in the air with a sigh, turned away and started rubbing his temples. A sign his headache wasn't getting any better.

Feeling the quilt rise again, Starsky fought to keep the worry for his partner from showing.

Hutch sensed it, turned and walked over to him. He spoke a bit more subdued, "What is it that has you so worked up, huh?"

The brunet found that he couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't know the answer; he didn't _want_ to know the answer.

Kneeling in front of him his friend's voice continued to probe. "Buddy, I can't help you, if you won't talk to me."

In a futile attempt to keep his emotions in check, Starsky looked away. Hutch lowered his eyes with a sigh, "The dreams Starsk, what are they about?"

Realizing his partner had hit the bull's eye, his temper reared up again. "It's nothing."

"Tell me."

He didn't know how Hutch did it, but the man had a knack for pulling out his feelings. The small part that recognized the danger his partner was in fought desperately for control. It lost.

"I don't wanna talk, I told you to let it go!"

"Oh come off it Starsk, you seriously expect me to carry on as if nothing happened? D' you think I like searching the men's rooms while my head feels like its going to explode at any second. Dammit Starsk… you're acting like a little boy!"

The words caused a surge of emotions to explode in his chest. Rage clouded his vision in a red haze. It needed a release, and found it. He lashed out with his fist again. Only this time… Hutch caught it… and held it in mid-air.

Trembling, Starsky tried to pull his arm free. His partner wouldn't let him, holding his fist in a gentle, yet iron grip. "Uh uh, buddy. Not before you tell me."

The resolve, the anger Starsky felt in his grip overwhelmed him, telling the brunet his partner had been waiting for this to happen, had purposefully steered towards it and would never, ever let him go. After what had happened, the fierceness of Hutch's love came as a shock, washing over him in waves as they sat there, fists locked. The waves quite efficiently shattered the remaining barriers Starsky's anxious mind had raised in defence. He started to shake more violently.

"Tell me." Hutch pushed warmly.

Feeling the tension drain like water from the desert, Starsky suddenly felt utterly exposed. A helpless tear clouded his vision as he stared at his partner.

Hutch moved in to touch his forehead with his own, the grip on his fist changing to one of comfort. "Trust me a bit will ya, Starsk?"

The trembling subsided as Starsky took a deep breath.

Hutch lifted his head, pulling back a bit, but keeping his touch, holding the brunet's shoulder at arms length. "It's still Simone is it?"

Starsky shrugged. "I guess so." With a sigh he leaned his head back against the wall.

"Aw Hutch, those dreams really suck the life out of me." He shot a glance at his partner. "And this diet I'm on ain't exactly helpin' matters."

The blond listened quietly, so Starsky continued, trying to explain himself. "You know, in the cave? When they… those creeps hit me? I could never see it coming, with the blindfold and all… So I started to tense up whenever I heard a sound."

Starsky felt the grip on his shoulder tightening slightly. He knew it wasn't comfort. Hutch didn't like what he was hearing one bit, but he didn't say a word.

"Well, seems like my body still thinks I'm in danger, because I can't seem to shake it. It's as if… a giant sword's hanging over my head, threatening to come down on me…," he looked his partner in the eyes. "And you… at any moment…"

Hutch was quiet for a moment before speaking softly. "That's because I wasn't there when it happened." He hesitated as if something suddenly dawned on him. "That's it? You're angry because I was so late, buddy?

Starsky stared at him in surprise, having to admit to himself that Hutch might have got a point. "I… could be… I don't know… it's just… sometimes I feel I'm still there, ya know?"

"You have to let it go, buddy… because believe me if I say that the next time you try to hit me, I'll punch your lights out." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

Starsky nodded, appreciating the humour and feeling slightly better.

The corner of Hutch's lip curled up in a slight smile as he spoke wearily. "Besides, the only thing that'll bear down on you right now, if you keep sitting on the floor of the men's room like that is the head-nurse." Hutch stood up and reached for his partner to lend him a hand.

"She might anyway. I already stole her plant," he grinned. He had noticed the blond was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Preoccupied with wanting to escort him back to his room as soon as possible, Starsky followed his partner to the door. Hutch opened it to let him through, but suddenly closed it with a bang, making the brunet collide hard with the woodwork. "Hey!" Starsky yelled.

Hutch's expression had turned dead serious as he determinately kept the door closed with his left hand. "Starsky, you wanted to walk out on our partnership and you only brought me this plant as substitution?"

"I wasn't,-" The brunet started say, wondering where on earth Hutch had found the strength to sound so angry as he should be falling over on the spot.

The blond pointed a finger at him. "You said, and I quote: thought you might want to have someone to talk to when I'm gone, unquote!"

"Well," Starsky stammered, knowing full well his partner was speaking the truth. "It's a nice plant."

"Yeah, but it doesn't exactly has your personality, Starsk."

"Oh, I don't know. Having a ten foot tall geranium to back you up, will scare the crap out of any perp."

"And another thing…" Hutch continued mercilessly. "You didn't even buy it, you stole it!"

Starsky smiled, grabbed his partner's arm holding the door closed and moved in a bit closer. "Anything for you, Schweetheart."

Hutch lowered his arm. Grinning Starsky opened the door and walked out, only to wait patiently in the hallway to motion his partner back to bed.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Liquids chapter 8

Thanks to all who reviewed on chapter 7. It really means a lot to me to know that you're actually enjoying my writing. Jeanine… let me tell you that without your constant feedback this whole story never would have happened.

After all the heavy emotional stuff in the previous chapters I decided some light hearted chit chat was in order, so no warnings for this chapter. Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 8 **

Two wallets, one purse and an apple, no credit cards, no valuables he could sell. Sitting in the sleazy bar, Stef eyed the results of yesterday's work. It was barely enough to keep him going through the next day. It wouldn't last a week. He sighed and leaned back in the wooden chair to eye the man sitting in front of him, who was patiently waiting for his answer.

When Will had been around things were easier. Between the both of them they always managed to scrape up enough money and food to last them through the week. Lately, with the murders going on, the cops were tightening their nets. It had become damn difficult for an honest thief to make a living.

He hadn't eaten properly for days now. Yesterday, he was about to get lucky when he'd spotted a busload of tourists prowling through the city. But, of course, then he'd suddenly found himself in that cat and mouse situation with those two cops.

God, he'd gotten so careless. That's twice they almost caught him! _Must be the lack of food_, he thought wryly.

After that little escapade, the tourists were long gone and the evening had left him with nothing but the few bucks he'd lifted from a rich place earlier in the week, now safely tucked away in his pockets.

This deal however could change his luck.

Stef remembered the first time Marcel had come up to him, right after Will had died. He was twelve years old at the time. The man had sat him down at this very table and had spoken softly to him. "You can't join us just yet, you're too young."

"I'm more than a match for most of you. Give me a chance," he had hissed.

But Marcel had shaken his head.

"We have our standards Stef, sixteen, no younger."

Stef had opened his mouth to object, but was firmly interrupted. "The Guild won't be far away, we'll keep an eye on you, protect you, until you're old enough."

His thoughts wandered on until just a minute ago when Marcel had suddenly appeared out of no where. "We think you're ready. All you have to do is help me bring in those two cops. If you pass this test, you're in. You know what that means Stef."

Yes, he knew what it meant.

Closing his eyes Stef tried to make sense of his inner turmoil. The Guild, the Thieves Guild, it was a dream come true. All his troubles would be over. The Guild supplied its members with everything they needed, provided you handed over your 'findings' in return.

With an effort Stef focussed on his surroundings again, looking the man straight in the eye. He was no longer the innocent child he had been just a few years back. He'd seen things happening on the streets that no boy of his age should ever have to see. He'd developed a sixth sense for it, and it was screaming at him now.

Something in Marcel's face bothered him. The man picked up on his hesitation and tried to persuade him. "You want to live on the streets all you're life? I can't handle two cops by myself, I need your help."

"What'll happen to them?"

"Does it matter?"

Stef ignored the question. "They get killed?"

"The Guild won't let a cop walk out of their headquarters in one piece, I can tell you that."

"Whatever happened to a thief's honor?

"Stef," Marcel had sounded condescending. "That code died ages ago. Times have changed. The Guild had to change with it… We grew up. Sometimes killing is necessary."

Necessary… He hated that word. Stef believed in creating his own luck… his own rules… and killing had never been a part of that. Yes, last night he had been willing to kill the cop on the roof. But that was self-preservation, and he'd been relieved there wasn't any blood on his hands. Premeditated murder was something else, entirely. One of the few things he'd come to admire about The Guild was the fact that they never resorted to murder. Their expertise had never made that… necessary.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that gaining some food should be his top priority at the moment. Despite the change in morals of the modern day Guild, this was still the break Stef needed, the chance he'd been waiting for. But was it worth it? Selling out these two lives?

A small voice, probably Will's, kept telling him no, that the price was too high. A thought suddenly occurred to him, making a shiver run up his spine_. The dead tenant I stumbled on a few days ago!_ "Last month's murders?"

Marcel just shrugged. "It was necessary."

There was that word again. Stef couldn't hide his discomfort. Those two cops… they reminded him of something. Something he lost ages ago.

"Your … hesitation… to get rid of those two is… commendable, but misplaced. The cops didn't hesitate when they killed Will, did they? No, they shot him in cold blood. And what for? Stealing apples?" Marcel lowered his voice, "Don't tell me you've forgotten what it felt like to watch him die?"

Stef hissed back in a voice as cold as Marcel's, "No, never."

"If you won't do it for me, or for yourself, then do it for Will. You owe him at least that much. Get even with those cops; I know you've wanted to for years."

Stef didn't speak as he pondered over the words. _He's right; the cops had destroyed his life. So what the hell was he doing trying to protect two of them? _

Marcel stood up and leaned in over the table to whisper urgently. "You know that the Guild won't ask you again, Stef. Don't throw this chance away. Help me get those two cops off my back, and you'll earn your place within our ranks."

Stef looked up into Marcel's blue eyes and cleared his dry throat, Knowing that the answer he was about to give would change his life forever.

* * *

The talk last night had done him good. Starsky had slept dreamlessly for over eight hours, feeling quite refreshed as he'd woken up. But the anger was still there, he felt it lingering, slumbering beneath a thin layer of tight control as he opened the heavy hospital door to his partner's room late in the morning of the next day.

Hutch sat on the hospital bed. The doc had declared him fit and ready to go as long as the blond would take it easy for a few days.

Starsky thought of their conversation the previous night. What if his partner was right? Was the anger really about disappointment? After all, his first words had been: 'what took you so long?'

However, at the time he also remembered wanting to take them back immediately as he could vividly imagine the hell Hutch had gone through in trying to find him. If anyone was to blame for the dreams and anger he was experiencing it was Simon, and the helplessness he'd felt at the time. But not Hutch, never Hutch.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the blond holding out a demanding hand, palm up.

"You heard the doc," Starsky tried against his better judgement, "you're supposed to keep calm this week."

"Starsk," apparently Hutch had no intention of letting neither the Doc nor Starsky mother hen him to death.

Starsky sighed quite audibly. Having anticipated his partner's no nonsense attitude he'd brought the blond's gun and holster. Without further comment he handed it over to him.

Hutch moved his arm stiffly as he tried to fasten the holster, making the brunet feel even guiltier about this whole situation. However, the discomfort disappeared as soon as his partner announced they were going to take the palm bush with them.

"There's no way, I'm going to put _that_ thing in _my_ car. Forget it."

The blond absentmindedly rubbed his injured arm. "Oh, come on. I talked to the nurses and they're only to happy to get rid of the thing." He continued a bit more subdued, "Besides, you gave it to me buddy. I'm not leaving without it."

Gaping at his partner, Starsky was well aware of the little vendetta Hutch had going right now for knocking him out cold. Silently Starsky studied the plant... the ten foot tall plant. "It's never gonna fit! How 'm I supposed to transport that thing, and you, at the same time? I'm tellin' ya-" He halted midway when he noticed Hutch's lack of response. His partner just sat on the bed watching him, silently accepting the rejection, giving in far too easily.

He looked at Hutch, his face betraying the whole myriad of complex emotions that he'd come to love in the blond man. Starsky didn't like the change in the blond's behaviour, the signs that the pressure was beginning to get to him, and he hated the fact that he was to blame for it. "All right, but you better make sure the upholstery stays intact or you're touring the streets on foot in the future, blondie."

Hutch smiled and jumped on the bed. "You take the pot, I'll take the top."

The pot was wrapped in plastic so it wouldn't leave soil all over the place during transport.

Muttering, Starsky lifted it, while Hutch carefully folded the top leaves and tucked them under his uninjured arm.

"Hey, hey!" Hutch exclaimed as his partner roughly tried to push both the plant and him forwards. "Be careful! You'll bruise the leaves."

"If this thing sheds more than one leaf in my car, I swear I'm gonna do a whole lot more than just bruise the leaves… And it's probably gonna involve a hedge trimmer."

"Sssssshhhh," Hutch warned him.

Startled at the urgency in his partner's voice, Starsky looked around, only to look utterly annoyed when his partner had started to soothe the plant, stroking its leaves. "He didn't mean it."

"Hutch, so help me-"

Hutch grinned. "Move it buddy, or are you gonna stay rooted to the floor like that?"

Grudgingly Starsky manoeuvred the heavy pot, with the plant, and Hutch, out of the room.

* * *

"I can't see a damn thing!" Chagrined Starsky looked into the rear view mirror as they were leaving the hospital parking lot. All he saw was jungle.

They'd moved the passenger's seat slightly forwards, putting the pot snugly on the floor, jammed between the back- and front seat. It made Hutch's position a bit cramped, but he didn't seem to mind. Thankfully the soft long leaves of the palm bush were quite bendable, filling up the entire interior of the Torino.

How he'd let Hutch talk him into such a ridiculous plan, was a mystery to him. What ever happened to him not even allowing his partner throwing so much as a paper cup on the car floor?

Hutch carefully cleared a path from the rear view mirror to the rear window.

"better?"

"T'riffic," he replied, angrily wiping off a leaf that insisted on resting itself on his shoulder. He glanced in the side view mirror as he turned onto the busy street. "Now I've only got every other line of sight to worry about." He glanced at his right. "And will ya warn me for any foot soldiers when I want to make a right turn? I'm liable to run right over them with half of Central Park's foliage blocking my view."

"Yeah, yeah," Hutch looked around in appreciation. "I must admit though, that I'm a little surprised it actually fits in here, Starsk. Your car's bigger than I thought. Maybe in the future I can use it to-"

"Dream on, blondie. After this our debts are settled."

Grinning, Hutch looked at him through a mass of leaves hanging between them, feigning innocence. "Debts?"

Starsky shot him a death glare.

"Okay, okay… I hear ya."

Starsky, all but convinced, turned his head to the road again. "Come on huh? I feel guilty enough at it is. Can we just forget about this whole thing and let's go eat somewhere? There's this real nice place-"

The look on his partner's face spoke volumes for his thoughts, crushing the brunet's hope that the blond might have forgotten about the diet. "Well," Starsky continued sadly, "you can't blame a man for tryin'."

Hutch smiled and slapped him on the knee. "You're forgiven, partner. You're forgiven."

* * *

TBC. 


	6. Liquids chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

After dumping the plant at Hutch's, they spend the rest of the day touring their beat. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy, but either he'd been seriously scared off, or their detective's skills needed some brushing up, because there was no sign of him anywhere.

Hutch concluded wryly that the last reason might be a distinct possibility since his head wasn't feeling any better at the end of the day. He knew he should be in bed. But with these murders going on he couldn't afford it.

"God I'm so hungry, even your plants look appetizing," his partner complained sadly, closing his eyes for a second.

"Starsky!" Realizing the car in front of him had stopped in front of a crosswalk, Hutch gave a startled yell. His partner hit the breaks just in time. They jerked forward as the Torino's bumper halted its forward motion only inches from the beige Corvette in front of them.

The brunet shot Hutch an angry glare, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Pointing out that he shouldn't be driving as the lack of food wasn't working well on his concentration, was not something Starsky wanted to hear right now.

Hutch complied, mainly because an argument about this could very well mean his head would explode. Instead he reached for the receiver and signed them out. Starsky didn't say a word, pulling over when Hutch motioned for him to do just that.

He shot the blond a puzzled look as Hutch stepped out and waited on the sidewalk. "Well, are you coming? I thought you were hungry?"

Starsky's eyes went large as he noticed the Italian restaurant.

"Soft food buddy, you're getting pasta."

"Really?" A multi million dollar smile lit his face as his eyes brightened with the prospect. He looked at his partner as if he'd just given him the moon.

Hutch couldn't help but let a shy smile escape. "Yes, really. Come on."

Starsky gave an excited yelp and exited. "I promise you Hutch, no more moodiness from now on!"

His partner's cheerfulness actually made the blond's headache lessen slightly. _Okay, _ _Hutchinson__, the only thing to remember now is not to fall over into your lasagne out of weariness and all will be all right with the world. _

* * *

That night, sleep wouldn't come. Hutch's fearful reaction towards him kept playing over and over in his head. Starsky knew he shouldn't fret over it so much, but he couldn't help it. The problem was that every time he looked at Hutch, his heart concurred that this _was_ a big deal.

Although Hutch tried to uphold the image of the unconditional love and trust he so craved for, Starsky knew that they both were very well aware of the sadness going on between them. A sadness that Starsky kept seeing in that one tear Hutch had shed.

When he finally did fall into an uneasy slumber it was only to lie fully awake again three hours later. There was no use in trying to get to sleep now, so he got up, got dressed and decided he might as well take the Torino out for a spin. The fresh air would do him good and who knows, he might even run into that little thief. With a soft click he locked the front door behind him.

An hour later Starsky was tired to the bone. The sun wasn't up yet and the beach he'd parked the Torino on was still covered in the quietness of predawn. The sea breeze blowing in through the open window had done him a world of good. Certain now that he would sleep through World War Three at this point, he started the engine to head home.

A shadow filled the powerful beams of the Torino's head lights; a black hole, absorbing all light and vision, as if the night had manifested itself in front of him.

It moved out of the light.

Snapping wide awake, Starsky reached for his gun locked in his holster, knowing he would never make it.

The shadow aimed, speaking in a monotone voice. "This is where your journey ends, Detective."

Starsky's head snapped back in pain as the projectile hit him point-blanc through the open window. He never saw a face, never knew what hit him.

But Stef did.

**

* * *

**

Hutch rubbed his face with his uninjured hand, only to cover his mouth, trying desperately to keep the demons at bay that threatened to overwhelm him. He was sitting behind the wheel of the Torino he'd found abandoned on the beach. The driver's door stood wide open as he looked out over the empty ocean basking in the early morning light, not really seeing it. Closing his eyes, he shook his head at the implausibility of the situation.

Why the hell was this happening again?

His injured hand shot out in anger, hitting the steering wheel hard. A small part of him was glad for the distracting pain it caused shooting up his arm. Hutch tried to let the resulting anger take control, but failed to succeed as events from the past days caught up with him, ruthlessly breaking down his barriers.

He took a couple of deep breaths. Why the hell did he feel so damn scared this time? What happened to the resolve, the anger he'd felt the last time Starsky had disappeared? A memory slipped in. Of a time and place he did not want to recall.

_He'd been chasing Simon's goons through half the desert and was now standing upon the small dune in the middle of nowhere. Sand and silence were all that surrounded him. The hot sun did nothing to thaw his heart which was slowly freezing over by the icy grip of fear. The empty black van behind him only served to feed his anxiety some more. _

_He panted heavily, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. _

_ In the distance the lonely form of the red _ _Torino__ stood out amidst the dry bushes and small whirlwinds of sand that danced across the barren ground. The car was a beacon presenting the life he'd managed to build up until now, a life which anchored him to the ground, to the big city, to being a cop… to Starsky. Right now the _ _Torino__ was all that kept him from being blown away in the emptiness of the scorching dessert, the emptiness of the harsh city life he was leading. _

_He fought to suppress the familiar feeling of loneliness that had always been a part of him in the past. _

_For the car was empty… And Starsky was gone. _

_Anger set in. _

_He'd not let a creep like Simon destroy everything he had worked so hard for to accomplish. With grim determination he stood up straight, purposefully taking in the hot air. He had no alternatives left. Although he shivered at the thought of that man touching his soul again, he knew it was time to talk to Simon again. _

This was when it had started, when the seeds of fear and doubt, planted by Simon, had managed to find their way inside him, had rooted inside his heart and proceeded to grow upon the essence of his soul.

Sirens pulled him back to the present, where there was no Simon, where the anger just wouldn't come.

He stared at the hole in the windshield, a silent witness of what had happened. Somewhere in the night, someone had managed to tear his world apart…yet again.

* * *

As the squad car entered the scene, Dobey saw a lone figure leaning against the hood of the Torino. Both the car and his Detective looked quite lost beneath the large overhang of the rocky cliff that closed off the beach.

Bracing himself he stepped out of the black and white, this didn't look good, the grim look he spotted on the blond's face already telling him what was wrong.

Hutch wasted no time with pleasantries. "It seems he was alone when they hit him Captain."

"Hit him?"

Hutch stepped back from the car to get out of the way of the crime team, now swarming all over the Torino. He motioned to the open window.

Dobey's heart sank to his stomach. "Hit him as in shot him?"

Hutch's gloved hand held up an extremely sophisticated iron pin, sporting small feathers on one end.

"A tranquilizer dart," Dobey spoke softly.

"And not you're standard one either; these little beauties are very accurate, very sophisticated."

The Captain carefully took the dart from the blond's hand. "These are only used by specialists, and I don't mean vets. Special Forces use 'em, as do highly skilled professionals, like-"

"Thieves" Hutch finished.

Dobey looked up. "This is beginning to look like quite an organization. I'll have the lab run this over, see if it contains anything that may help us, but I doubt it. Pros wouldn't leave this behind if it would lead us anywhere."

Hutch turned around to stare at the surroundings. "

What was Starsky doing here in the middle of the night anyway, Hutchinson?"

The blond turned back, opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. He just threw his hands in the air and turned away again. Dobey frowned. This wasn't the Hutch he'd come to know. "Well?"

"I don't know, Captain!" His Detective answered, frustration colouring his words. "I don't know… um… sometimes, he drives over to the beach to relax."

Dobey's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Hutch's explanation didn't sound the least bit credible, since Starsky was a city boy all the way. "He does? Are you sure we're talking about the same Starsky here?"

"Yeah," Hutch spoke quickly, the casualness of that word instantly taking away the Captain's doubt.

_Probably one of those things Starsky picked up from _ _Hutchinson_ Dobey smiled inwardly. _God bless the day those two met. _

"I guess they were just waiting for the right moment," Hutch continued. "Did the lab come up with anything else?"

"Yeah, I was about to call you on that when this happened." Dobey suddenly frowned, noticing the bandage on the blond's wrists. "What the hell happened to your arm?"

Agitated Hutch quickly put his hand in his back pocket. "Nothing, I got a little accident last night. Captain, the lab?"

"Your hunch was correct. It seems that there's some blood missing from the bodies of these killings you're investigating. And the blood found on the floor isn't enough to account it."

Hutch opened his mouth in awe. "How much blood?"

"A couple of glasses."

The blond fell silent for a while before speaking up again. "Captain, we've been going at this the wrong way. We assumed the killings were done by burglars, in order to cover up their tracks."

"You think the missing blood was taken purposefully?"

"Absolutely, we're not looking for thieves. We're looking for a bunch of murderers who happened to take the jewellery along with them when they were done."

Dobey motioned to the Torino. "You think these were the same men?" He fervently wished he hadn't made that connection as he saw his Detective pale a little.

"There's only one person who can tell us that, Captain." The blond's words turned bitter, "And I'm going to find him, even if it means I have to turn over every rock in this city to do so."

Without a further word Hutch turned and headed for his LTD on top of the cliffs.

Dobey watched him leave. Hutch had not been telling him the whole story. The tiredness in the Detective's eyes had betrayed him. He had not been as angry as Dobey had expected him to be. With Starsky gone… that scared him more than anything. _Hang in there Detective, we'll find him… one way or the other, we'll find him._

* * *

**Tbc**


	7. Liquids chapter 10

A big warm thank you to all you readers and reviewers, to my two proof readers, and my beta. HUGS

**Warning:** angst dream alert.

_(24 october) A note to all you wonderful readers: chapter 11 of Liquids is coming soon._**

* * *

**

**Chapter 10 **

_Once again Starsky was in the church. _

_The altar was there, Simon's goons were there. Only this time… he was one of them. _

_The chanting pushed him forwards, into the middle of their holy circle. With the followers all around him, he drew the small knife from beneath his black robe. The steel glinted in the candle light. _

_"Simon, Simon, Simon…" _

_Hutch watched him as Starsky stepped closer to the altar. "Starsky… don't do this." His voice sounded hoarse, shaking with fear. _

_As in his previous dreams Hutch was lying on his back on the altar, his arms tied down along either side of it… no ropes this time, but chains. The image made him scream, but his dream itself just felt numb. As much as Starsky wanted to stop himself, he couldn't. He lowered his eyes. This just had to be done. _

_"You don't have to do this… come on… let me go?" Hutch pulled on his chains, the rattling echoing through the church. _

_"Starsk… Please? I don't like it here." The voice had turned into a little boy's one. _

_Starsky looked up. It wasn't a boy; it was still Hutch lying there. He heard himself speak. "I can't help you… I never could." _

_Hutch looked at him, hope fading in his eyes. He turned his head away to stare up at the distant arches of the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable. _

_Starsky stepped forwards and locked his hand around his partner's upper arm. He felt Hutch stiffen, the muscles tensing beneath his iron grip. He lifted the knife and slowly cut the artery in the lower arm. The blond arched his back in pain. _

_The brunet let him go, stepping back from the altar. _

_Hutch turned his head to look at him with sad eyes. The hurt blond boy was back, the shattered trust clearly written on his face. _

_The knife dropped forgotten on the floor where a pool of blood now began to from, all he could do was stare at it, the chanting ringing in his ear. _

_He could see his partner's lips moving, but couldn't hear him speak. He took a step forwards, bending down to listen to the blond, who was rapidly loosing the fight to stay awake. _

_"I… forgive… you…I… forgive…" _

_The mantra hit him like a hammer in the chest. Starsky froze, and could only watch, as his partner slowly bled to death. _

Somehow waking up became a struggle. Opening his eyes was hard, as was taking control over his own muscles. He was getting rapidly exhausted with the effort of just trying to move. Slowly Starsky managed to open up his eyes. Blinking, he tried to figure out what was going on. Dream images blending into horrific reality as he was shocked to find himself in a church, lying on an altar… chained.

"HUUUUUTCH!"

His panicked scream echoed through the dark recesses and off the distant bare walls. He heard footsteps enclosing, but immediately knew it wasn't his partner. Fear gripped his heart. This was still a dream. It had to be… Even though he did feel awfully cold, the freezing air seeming to seep right through his bones.

"You think your partner will come to get you?"

As crazy as it sounded, the chillingly, soft voice cleared some of the cob webs from his fogged mind. Starsky blinked again as a bald man dressed in elaborate white robes swam in his vision.

The man leaned in to whisper something, blowing a foul breath in the brunet's face. "Because I'm counting on that."

Starsky managed to sit up slightly, gripping the man by his red stained robe. "You touch my partner, you…" He intended to say a whole lot more, but was overcome with a wave of dizziness and had to lie down again. Recalling the shadowed assailant at the beach, Starsky's mind cleared completely, "What the hell did you do to me?"

In all the time he'd been on this liquid diet he'd never felt as weak as he did now. Dizzy, he tried to focus again and found that the church he was in was nothing like the one in his dreams.

This church was clearly being restored, large wooden ramps covering most of the otherwise bare stone walls. There were candles, but there were no icons of any kind. The benches that were there seemed old, dusty, looking like they hadn't been used in ages. In the distance he could make out the old carcass of an organ, seemingly floating above the entrance doors.

The man smiled. "I guess you don't feel too well, huh?" He pulled back, holding up a paper cup. "Don't worry; it will only get worse during the next few days."

Starsky, at a loss as to what the man meant just stared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I was right," the man muttered more to himself than to Starsky. "You're a very worthy source… very potent. This is unlike the inferior quality I've been getting lately." He looked down into the cup, proceeding to take another sip.

Nausea started to take over the brunet as he looked at the man's face and saw red drops of blood trickling down the corners of his mouth. _Oh, God. _His eyes became wide as he quickly studied his own arm, finding a fresh needle mark that obviously betrayed the story. _Correction, this isn't a dream, it's a nightmare. _"You sick son of a bitch," he croaked wearily.

"On the contrary, I'm quite healthy now, thanks to you."

Starsky sat up straight, or at least he tried to within the confinements of the chains. "You let me up and you'll find out how _un_healthy I can make you!"

"Now, now, don't get upset. Conserve your strength. After all,_ I_ might need it." Spotting a shadow moving in one of the corners the man gave him a bemused evil grin. "Marcel over there has been a good… provider."

With a grunt the Detective sank back onto the altar, trying to keep his thoughts together, while shooting worried glances at the priest's associate. Studying the black clothed man, the same one who'd caught him, his trained mind easily put two and two together. _So you're the one doing all the killings, so preacher boy here can have a decent meal?_

How long had this been going on? For that matter, how many times could the priest tap his blood before he would succumb to the excessive blood loss? _It probably would take no more than a couple of days. _"And after me, who's next?"

The preacher's smile, showing red rimmed teeth sent a shiver up his spine. _Hutch. _The silent answer released the familiar anger he'd so come to fear. He welcomed it, welcomed the consuming rage that swept through him to release itself in one bitter thought. _Over my dead body, he'll be. _

"I told you not to worry my friend. I can't 'use' your partner. Which makes him kind of superfluous, wouldn't you agree? Fortunately, Marcel's an expert in dealing with all things superfluous."

The sudden tightening of chains caused the priest to take a step back as Starsky strained his muscles again, the indigo eyes shooting purple fire at the bloodthirsty priest. Laughing, the priest moved away to confer with his associate. "See you for diner, Detective."

Starsky's eyes followed him like a hawk. Fatigue ruthlessly conquered his anger, forcing his powerless struggle to slowly dwindle down to nothing. He could only hope Hutch wouldn't be foolish enough to come after him on his own.

* * *

"I can get you in, just you, no one else. No wires, no other cops… no guns."

Hutch studied the brown-eyed kid suspiciously. Expecting to have to turn half the town upside down in order to find him, he'd entered The Pits, ready to knock some sense into Huggy. But the man had just nodded and stepped aside, to reveal the kid sitting in a corner booth.

"Just don't arrest him, he didn't do it." Huggy had whispered urgently.

Intelligent eyes looked back at him, as Hutch spoke up. "You want me to go in with no backup what so ever? Why should I trust you?" He'd assessed quite quickly that Huggy had been right, human knowledge and detective instincts told him that Stef wasn't responsible for the murders. But it didn't mean that he wasn't involved; there was no telling what his intentions were.

Stef sat back. "Because if you don't, you'll never see your partner alive again."

Hutch leaned in, attempting to intimidate him, but could see it didn't make much of an impression on the boy. Stef turned out to be remarkably streetwise for a kid his age. "We're just a couple of cops to you… the deal stinks."

"Let's just say I owe someone, big time. A very, very close friend of mine... and believe me, if I wanted to harm you, you'd be dead already."

The calmly stated words, coupled with the fact that Stef hadn't so much as lifted a finger as he said it, made Hutch suddenly realize this wasn't a kid he was talking to. This was an equal.

"You're asking a lot."

"I'm offering a lot."

Hutch leaned back. Gauging his options the blond knew he really didn't have much of a choice, not if he wanted to have his partner back in one piece. He knew the ones responsible for the kidnapping weren't just some crazy folk, like Simon's had been. These were professionals, with a well-run organization behind them. He needed the kid's knowledge to get him in.

Lowering his guard slightly, Hutch bit his lip. Starsky hadn't been in top shape to begin with. The thought of him going through the kidnap and torture scene again made his blood boil. _I will NEVER leave you alone, you hear me! _Those had been his words and he had meant them. He still meant them.

"Okay, I'm in."

* * *

"Stef's going to bring Hutchinson in, Fifth, you know that!" Marcel's voice echoed through the main cave, located not too far from the church. How he hated this. But before he could make his move he had to make sure the rest of the Guild wouldn't stand in his way.

Fifth Avenue calmly sat back to look at him. "D' you think I don't know that? I'm just saying that there's more than one way to solve this crisis."

Marcel's lowered voice desperately tried to convince him of the contrary. "If we're not careful he'll lead the cop straight to the den. It'll destroy us. The boy has become a liability."

He leaned in, putting both his hands down on the wooden table, "You're the Guild's leader, Fifth. Decisions like these are part of the job if the Guild is to survive."

Loosing some of his dignified posture Fifth Avenue lowered the cigarette he was holding as he spoke up in warning. "Are you saying you want my job, Marcel?"

Another shadow moved in the corner.

_Yes, I want your job. The way you run the Guild makes me puke. But now is not the time. There are too many witnesses around, not to mention your notorious buddy over there in the corner. I'll be dead before I could even blink. But if I ever catch you alone… _"No, no of course not, I'm just concerned, that's all."

"Stef is still under our protection, whether he wants to join us or not. It makes no difference." Fifth Avenue fell silent for a while. "But the cop is a whole other matter; you might be right about him. All right, if Hutchinson gets too close, you know what you have to do."

Marcel smiled. "You can count on me boss."

* * *

**Tbc**


	8. Liquids Chapter 11

Hey, it's me… I'm back! Ahem… Okay, I know that for some of you, waiting for me to update this story has just been nothing but torture. Not to mention Starsky, who I'd left on that altar for months on end! He's never going to forgive me.

Thank you all, who pushed me into continuing Liquids, who send me emails, who nudged this story back to life. A big hug to all of you. All I can say is … my muse is alive and kicking again!

From here on out all the beta work is done by Starsky's Strut. Proofreading is done by Wuemsel. Also be warned: things will be getting more intense.

I recommend you reread the story, because I have revised chapters 1 to 10. (Changed and added a few extra scenes, mainly concerning Stef.)

For those of you still sticking with me on this story (warm hug), here we go…

**

* * *

Chapter 11 **

Carefully Hutch touched the barren rock. It felt cold and smooth beneath his fingers. Forged out of the earth itself, the stone surface enveloped a dark gaping hole. A cold wind rose from deep inside its bowels, touching him with its icy fingers.

Hutch shivered. It was late in the evening and the sun had already begun to set. To his surprise, the cave, situated halfway up a cliff, wasn't too far from where they found the Torino earlier this day. The beach beneath him was abandoned, the sand, rock and chilling wind, only added to the image of a hostile environment.

Taking a deep breath, Hutch kept wondering if he hadn't made a mistake by not informing Dobey of his whereabouts. He shook his head. Quite frankly he didn't care. Solely focussed on getting his partner out, Hutch had thrown caution to the wind, but he wasn't stupid. Unbeknown to the kid, he'd told Huggy. And although the man was viciously protective over Stef, the bartender had made it clear that if he wouldn't hear from the blond in twenty four hours he would alert the entire Bay City Police Department.

He tore his eyes away from the cave to look at Stef

"Why are you doing this?" He spoke in an attempt to quell his inner demons.

"I told you," the young thief answered, while rummaging through a small backpack. "I owe it to someone."

"You owe it to someone to bring in the cops?

Instead of answering, Stef said. "I've seen you two. I saw how you work together, run together. You're closer than brothers."

"You didn't answer my question."

Stef threw him a flashlight, then put on his backpack and without answering proceeded to walk into the cave. "Follow me."

The way Stef acted reminded him of something. Suddenly he knew what the boy was trying to hide. Staring at the light in his hand, Hutch said, "Don't _you_ need a flashlight?"

The hollow answer came from deep within the cave, "No, I can find my way in the dark without it. Are you coming or not?"

Taking a deep breath, Hutch followed him in. He found the boy standing at the back of the cave, near a crack in the wall, barely big enough to fit a grown person. Stef disappeared inside it. Squeezing himself through the narrow opening, Hutch was surprised to find a wide corridor behind it. The shadows dancing beyond the range of the light seemed to go on forever. It wasn't difficult to imagine that all kinds of nightmarish creatures were hiding in the dark. _Don't be stupid Hutchinson,_ he reprimanded himself. _Get a grip or you'll never find your partner._

The tunnel looked old and obviously wasn't handmade for its stone walls looked far too rough for that, and its course was far too erratic. As they went deeper into the narrowing tunnel, Hutch kept one hand on the wall, mainly because the solid mass bought him some comfort in this new world, in which he felt naked and totally out of place. The dark wall felt clammy to the touch, the air smelled moist and stale.

The deeper they went in, the more nervous Hutch became. This place was huge. How could anything this big, exist so close to the city, without anyone knowing about it? His steps suddenly faltered as the comforting wall gave way beneath his hand.

The young thief noticed and took a few steps back. "These are old tunnels, used for smuggling in the old days." he explained. "Some of the side passages lead to one of the older houses in the area, some disappear into the depths of the earth. I would stay close if I were you. If you get lost down here, you're a goner."

Hutch nodded timidly, having already decided that he should keep a close eye on the boy. _Because I also wouldn't be able to find my way out, if_ you_ decide to leave me stranded in this maze._

Reluctantly he followed the kid past the gaping hole to his right. The emptiness beneath his hand was unsettling, and he couldn't help but peer nervously into the darkness of the tunnel. For a moment he thought he saw movement there. His heart suddenly did a quickstep in his throat. _Dammit, stop imagining things, Detective! _Good thing Starsky wasn't here, with the anxiety attacks his partner had suffered lately, Hutch was sure a trip through a creepy underground tunnel system, wouldn't be the brunet's idea of fun. _There's no such things as ghosts, Hutchinson. Now keep your head together! _Cop mode kicked in, and he felt some of the anxiety drain as the cold, bitter side of him took over. Without a further glance sideways, Hutch followed Stef deeper into the tunnel.

* * *

A couple of feet into the right hand tunnel, hidden deep within the shadows, two figures took a step forwards. The Guild's guards had been instructed to let the cop pass… for now.

* * *

"Did you get clearance?" The priest kept his voice down, so Starsky wouldn't be able to hear him. 

Marcel nodded, grimly, "Although I'm pretty sure Fifth won't agree on killing the cop, the Guild won't stand in the way. Our fearless leader thinks I'm gonna lead Hutchinson away from him, to buy him enough time to pack up and relocate headquarters. He'll be furious when he finds out."

"Right, that's exactly what we want. Are your people ready?"

Marcel nodded again, "As ready as they'll ever be. We've been waiting a long time for this."

"Then get a move on. By the way, there's one slight change of plan." He glanced back at Starsky, and then leaned in to whisper into the assassin's ear.

"What? But-?"

"Don't question my orders, Marcel!"

The assassin bowed his head. "It shall be done."

A panel slid back, and Marcel disappeared behind it. The priest stood in silence for a while, before moving back to the altar.

Starsky looked positively tired, and he couldn't understand why the detective hadn't fallen asleep by now. _He's far too restless._ The brunet's eyes followed him like a hawk. To the priest's surprise they showed an unexpected anger behind them. _Marcel was right. He is strong. _Taking care not to stand to close to the altar, he said, "You'll be happy to know that your partner is on his way. My associate is taking care of him right now."

That made the cop's efforts to pull free halt for a while. The priest could see the strength ebbing away like water through a drainpipe, and then it was replaced by something far more deadly. The hoarse voice spit at him, "You kill Hutch, and I'll hunt you down to the ends of this earth."

The change was unexpected and for a moment, actually frightened him. He thought back to the first sip he'd taken from this man's blood. It almost seemed to burn his insides; he needed to soothe it, needed to soothe this man. "You're far too worked up… far too angry. Get some sleep."

The brunet stared at him as if he'd lost his marbles. "Forget it," he finally said.

The priest sighed. He hated to resort to these measures, but sometimes events left him no choice. Picking up a small instrument, his lyre, he began to pull gently on the strings attached between a horseshoe-shaped frame.

"What are you…?"

"Shhh, sleep…"

"N…n… no."

But the priest could see the man was beginning to feel drowsy. He felt the brunet's blood singing within him, and channelled it through his fingers, transforming it into soft lyrical sounds.

"S…stop …it."

"Give in, detective. You can't win."

Starsky shook his head in a futile attempt to stay awake. The priest knew it wouldn't be long now. The detective was already dazed. Just a few more seconds and his body would fall asleep; the mind would follow.

Suddenly the brunet started to seizure… violently.

It caught the priest completely off guard, creating a false tune because of it. _Damn, he's fighting it! _Starsky's mind was fighting him for control over his body!No one had ever done that! The priest concentrated, intensifying the tune… the hypnotic effect.

Starsky lost. With a painful whimper he slipped into unconsciousness, and his body movements soon quieted down.

With a sigh the priest stopped playing. The sweat was dripping from his brow. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him this much trouble_. But you're worth it, Detective_. A rumble in his stomach made him put the instrument down.

He was feeling hungry again.

* * *

"So," Hutch asked, after having walked for what must have been half an hour in silence, "who did you loose?" 

The reaction was instant. Stef stopped dead in his tracks, "What?"

"It wasn't all that hard to guess, Stef. Especially for someone who knows what it feels like to loose someone close."

The silence that followed almost felt unnatural. Then a soft voice broke the still air, "My brother… Will."

"Want to tell me about it?" Hutch asked softly.

In the dim light of the torch the blond could see the thief shrug off the demons from the past. "What's to tell," he said. "Our luck ran out, he got killed."

"Who killed him?"

Stef stared at him, then turned and moved away. Hastily the blond followed. "Stef?"

"Does it matter?"

"He was older than you?" Hutch asked, trying a different approach.

Stef nodded, "About five years older, we were orphaned quite young, and he made a promise to take care of me. We went into the thieving trade, hoping to be accepted into the Guild once we were older."

"Into the what?"

Stef gave him a slight smile. "Since I'm taking you in, I might as well tell you. The Guild of Thieves is the most carefully guarded secret among modern day criminals. Will used to talk very highly of them. It's an organisation that has been around for hundreds of years, with a moral code, also dating back for hundreds of years. He said that once we would join them, all our troubles would be over. They take care of you, providing you hand them the loot."

"And you're saying every bad guy knows of its existence and have never spilled the beans once?" They walked onwards. It had been quite a while since they'd left the cave and moved into the tunnel system. Ever since then, the passageways had been declining, but now Hutch had the feeling they were going up again.

"Most don't know about it, those that do keep their mouth shut… Even a crime syndicate like the mob are hesitant to mess with the Guild."

The wall gave way to his left this time. This opening was huge, far larger than any of the previous branches they'd past. Intimidated, he quietly walked past it. "The mob? I find that hard to believe."

Stef stopped. "The Guild is honest, but ruthless when it has to be, Detective. It has influence everywhere; its members are trained specialists in stealth and weaponry. And they use it, when they have to."

_The tranquillising dart we found near the Torino. _"So, they used it against my partner, because we got too close?"

"Yep."

"So, are these the ones who killed Will?"

"No." Stef snapped. "The Guild abides by ancient codes. They do not kill."

"Oh, come on kid. Do you really believe that?"

Stef sighed. "I used to, but now I'm not sure anymore."

Hutch looked away for a second.

"There's one thing I do know though."

"What's that?"

Stef had stepped back, hovering on the edge of the flashlight's white beam.

A warning shiver suddenly ran up the back of Hutch's spine. He moved forwards, just as Stef took another step back… and disappeared from view, his voice echoing through the empty passage ways.

"The Guild didn't kill Will… the cops did."

"Stef!" Hutch ran towards the spot where he'd last seen him, but the boy seemed to have evaporated into thin air. Fear rushed through him, its fingers as cold as the wind surging through the tunnels. The dark was everywhere… as was the silence. "STEF!"

Hutch frantically looked around, cursing at his stupidity for putting his trust in the boy. He froze, abruptly.

The shadows were moving, all of them.

Taking a fearful step back, he bumped into the wall behind him. The weird shapes were closing in on him. They seemed to glide swiftly, unworldly, unreal. Suddenly the flashlight was knocked out his hand. It hit the floor, flickered once, and then went out.

The dark was all encompassing. There was nothing to see. Not even a softer shade of dark. The frightening pitch-blackness was only broken by a soft rustling sound, as if something, or a herd of somethings, were creeping up on him.

He felt the hot air from their lungs fluttering past him, and then heard their breathing in his neck, so close that he was sure they were only two feet away from him, waiting for the command to attack like a pride of lionesses, ambushing their prey.

He took on a fighting stance, despite the fact that he knew he was vastly outnumbered.

_God, Starsk…I'm so sorry…_

Then they jumped.

Stef had been right. The Guild's retribution was quick.

Hutch didn't stand a chance.

* * *

tbc 


	9. Liquids Chapter 12

Sorry to keep you waiting. It took me a while longer to post this chapter than I had anticipated. Also, I'm hoping to have chapter 13 up before I'm leaving for Spain next weekend, but if not, it'll be there in two weeks time.

Thanks to the usual suspects!

There are no warnings for this chapter. **

* * *

**

Chapter 12

Starsky woke up to a strange sounding tune, notes that seemed to soothe the pain in his throbbing arm. He blinked. It was hard to get a clear focus. The white shadow sitting on a small stool at the foot end of the altar gradually took shape.

_Damn, _he cursed inwardly, recognising the bulky form. He _had_ fallen asleep. How much time had passed? Did this mean that Hutch was already…? No! He refused to believe that. His partner was alive… He had to be.

He frowned, noticing that the priest was still playing on the string instrument. Starsky always prided himself of being a man of the world. He had a wide range of interests, from pottery to books, from Mozart to photography. This instrument was old, the name of it jumping to mind from a book he once read. _A lyre? _Somehow it gave him the creeps, seeing that man play it. As if the priest was just as ancient, just as old.

He shivered, but was calmed down by the relaxing tune. The notes were making him feel exceptionally drowsy. The only thing keeping him awake was a steady anger burning inside. With a grunt he shook of the numb feeling. "What the hell are you doing?"

The priest looked up, apparently none to surprised that he was awake, as if he'd planned it. "I'm soothing your journey Detective."

"What journey? I'm not going anywhere."

"Shhh… It's all right. Death is nothing to be afraid of." The priest opened his mouth to say more, but stopped when there was no reaction.

_Right,_ Starsky turned his head away._ That was a stupid question._

"Oh, but you're not afraid of dying, are you?" Without waiting for an answer, the priest put the instrument down and stood up to move closer towards him. "Tell me what it is that you _do _fear? Hmm?"

Biting his lip, Starsky refrained from answering.

"Do you even know who I am, Detective?"

"You wouldn't by any chance be related to some nutcase named Simon, would you?" he sneered.

The priest showed a thin smile. "Name's Hermes."

_Hermes? _The name did ring a bell, something that had to do with ancient history again… Then it hit him, and his eyes went slightly wide.

"Ah, I see you've heard of me."

"You're crazy." Starsky croaked. A chill suddenly ran up his spine.

"Am I?" Without warning the priest yanked the I.V free from the arm, causing the brunet to gasp in pain. "You hadn't noticed this was there, had you?"

Starsky looked in horror at his left arm. No, he hadn't. Then his eyes swerved over to the tube that was still red with his own blood. His shaking intensified.

The priest smiled. "Your blood gives me life, detective. I take it because I was born to do so. I'm sorry to say that you won't survive the next session. I planned to keep you for at least a week, but there's a greater need to be quenched, and I need my strength.

However, I'm not all cold hearted. I want your transition to be peaceful. My music could always soothe the wildest animal. One tune will make them fall asleep; another makes them forget about the pain. It's a little gift I have. Call it hypnotic if you want, but it does come in handy every now and again. We don't want you to feel all anxious and tense, now do we?"

"You're just a man, you crazy creep!" Starsky retorted. "You're not Hermes!"

"You're still afraid, are you? And angry." The priest put a bony hand on the brunet's shoulder and squeezed. It felt like a thumbscrew being tightened. "And you're shaking again? Tsk, tsk, tsk, we can't have that. Now… I'm going to ask you one more time. What is it that you're so afraid of?"

Starsky remembered when Hutch had asked him that exact same question. How he'd pinned him against the wall for that. He knew the answer. But he wasn't about to tell it to this fruitcake.

"The only way to get rid of the fear is to confront it. You must know that?"

His answer sounded bitter, "You wanna kill me? Go ahead, but don't expect me to play along with your sick little fantasies."

"Fantasies?"

The priest's eyes seemed to darken, and the man lowered his voice. "Remember… I am not human… I am a God… a deity. Asking you is merely done out of politeness, because I already know what you fear… for _whom_ you fear." Before Starsky could react to that, Hermes shouted, "Marcel!"

A loud noise and a stone panel slid away from the back of the church. Through it Marcel and another black clad figure were dragging Hutch into the church.

Starsky felt his stomach drop a few inches, but before he could say a word, the priest whispered harshly, "Confrontation brings release, Mister Starsky. Let us pray it works that way for you too.

* * *

After he'd left the detective, Stef's feet had felt like lead for the entire way down. He now stood inside a small cave, being stopped in his tracks by conflicting emotions and the alien feeling of remorse.

He'd never been this deep inside the thieves' lair before, and he was sure he was close to their main hide out, mainly because for the last couple of hundred feet, the corridor was lid by torches, placed at intervals along the walls. All he had to do was follow the passage to the left hand side of the cave, leading down; follow the light. He had done what Marcel had asked him to do, and had passed the test. The Guild would invite him into their ranks. Then why was he hesitating?

_Come on, Stef. That cop represented everything you hate so much._

_-Everything?- _A little voice shot back.

_They killed Will… they destroyed my life. _

_-Hutch, didn't kill Will, Stef.-_

_That doesn't matter…all the cops are the same._

_-Really? What about his partnership? You know full well why he followed you in.-_

_It's not the same as loosing, Will!_

_-Isn't it?-_

Stef sighed, deeply. That was the question, wasn't it? The short time he'd spent with the detective had reminded him of what he'd lost. The love… the fierce loyalty to his brother. That's why Hutch had gone in… and that's what he'd used against him, to lure him into Marcel's hands.

God… he felt awful about it.

"Dammit," he cursed. "Of all the time and places for my conscience to kick in!"

There was nothing for it. He had to go back, and at least make sure the Guild wouldn't kill the blond. He knew Marcel had his own hideout, which he once accidentally discovered when he was doing some underground exploring. It was safer to keep the cops there, than at Guild's headquarters.

He'd just started walking back up the slightly sloping corridor again, when a noise made him turn on his heels.

* * *

Hutch wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't exactly feeling awake either.

"Hutch."

He moaned a few words at the voice to leave him alone.

"Hutch!"

There it was again, annoying, persistent… familiar. "Starch?" He slurred.

"Yeah, come on buddy… wake up."

In an instant the haze lifted. his vision cleared. His heart throbbed in his throat and his neck hurt from the impact. "Oooh, why is it always the neck?"

He brought up his hand to rub it when he suddenly noticed the chain tied to his wrist. Instantly alert, he tried to scramble onto both his feet, only to be yanked down forcefully by the iron object. "Ouch!"

"Easy, take it easy! They tied your hand to the altar."

_Altar? _Fully awake now, Hutch turned to find his partner lying on the large slab of concrete he'd been leaning against. "Starsk! Jesus! Are you all right?" the rush of relief at finding his partner alive, at finding him at all, momentarily made him feel light headed. He stood up, more carefully this time, holding his left hand as low to the ground as possible.

Starsky grimaced and lifted his hands to show his own bonds. He whispered, "I've been better."

Hutch closed his hand around his partner's and then proceeded to try and loosen the bolt on the chain with the other.

"Forget it. I already tried it. It's no use."

His partner pinched his hand to draw his attention. Hutch looked up to see the brunet nod at a priest standing in the back of the church talking to Marcel.

"He has the key."

"Who's he?"

"Name's Hermes," Starsky said, matter-of-factly. He thinks he's a God."

"A God, huh. Well you sure did it this time Starsk. That even beats Simon."

"Hutch, Hermes was…"

"I know. Courtesy of the private school my parents put me through. A Greek Deity, God of all travellers, like gypsies, but also a guide on the many journeys we are taking, like the one into the afterlife."

"Yeah, well. He plans to guide me all right, that's for sure."

Hutch pulled his gaze away from the priest to lock eyes with his friend. Only now did he notice the pale complexion. The man could barely keep his eyes open. A panic, driven by a spark of the much-sought for anger, set in. "Starsk," he asked, suddenly suspicious, "what did he do to you?"

The brunet shrugged, and then slowly raised his left arm. The blue bruises and pinpricks betrayed the story. For a split second Hutch thought his partner had been drugged, but then Dobey's words rang through his head: _there's blood missing from each and everyone of them._ His mouth suddenly turned dry. "How much did he take?" He asked hoarsely, unable to look away from the bruises on the arm.

Starsky lowered his arm out of view. "Enough."

Before Hutch could dwell on the consequence, Starsky pinched him again. "Hutch, listen to me, there's more going on here than that. Hermes wasn't just the God of travellers, he was also the God of thieves."

That certainly snapped his attention back into Detective mode. "Thieves?"

"Something they neglected to tell you at that private school of yours?"

"Starsky, he could be in league with the Guild."

"The what?"

"Stef, you know… the little thief you like so much? He told me there's this organisation called the Thieves Guild running right under our noses."

"Sorta like the Mob?"

Hutch shook his head, "Even the Mob is afraid to touch them, this organisation is ancient Starsk."

"Ancient? Like in dating back a couple of decades?"

"Try a couple of centuries, dating back to Europe and the Middle Ages, not something you and I'd wipe out so easily."

"Hermes is supposed to be older than that.' Starsky murmured, "Greek mythology starts at the beginning of time, doesn't it? That means preacher boy over there thinks he's at least a couple of thousand years old… and he's taking his guiding duties a little too seriously."

"It doesn't make sense, Starsk. From what Stef told me, the Guild abides by ancient rules… they do not kill."

"I have it up to here with that word 'ancient', partner. Times change, and that man is just plain crazy, trust me; he's the brain behind all these killings. Plus he has this notion that he's doing me a favor by letting me confront my worst fears… so I can die peacefully. Can you believe that?"

"Well, confronting your fears isn't such a bad idea, it's-"

"Hutch, d'you even know what my worst fear is?"

Hutch's thoughts halted as he looked into his partner's clouded blue eyes. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as the truth began to sink in, "Yeah…" he whispered. "I know."

Starsky turned his head away, effectively cutting off their silent communication.

"Starsk…"

Furiously, Starsky pulled hard on the chains, cursing out loud. The sudden loud noise making Hutch flinch once again.

_Damn… I must get this flinching thing under control._ "Starsky, it's not gonna happen…"

"You bet it's not," his friend bit back. "Because I'm not going to let him. Greek God or not!"

**

* * *

**

**Tbc**


	10. Liquids Chapter 13

Sometimes you need an outside view on your story to get the whole thing clear in your head. Two good friends and a couple of glasses of Sangria in Spain sure did it! Here's chapter 13. Enjoy…

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Stef."

An immaculately dressed man in an expensive blue shirt, bow tie and moustache stepped out of the left hand corridor. "Fifth Avenue?" Stef said, taken aback by the sudden appearance. "W… what are you… doing… here… I… I mean…" He'd met Fifth once, a very long time ago. It was shortly after he'd lost his father –his mother had already died at his birth- and he and Will had fled the foster home they'd been assigned to.

Marcel, who'd been Will's friend back then, had introduced them to Fifth in the same bar that Stef still chose for his meetings. That was when he first learned about the Guild. Fifth was the one who had proceeded to teach Will a few tricks of the trade, enough for him to survive on the streets. Will in turn, had taught his younger brother once Stef was old enough. Word had it that Avenue was the Guild's leader, but no one knew for sure.

"You seem startled," Fifth said, walking up to him. "I thought you wanted to see me?"

Stef pursed his lips together, recovering quickly from the initial surprise. "No… not really."

"You brought in the cop, did you?"

He hesitated. He could simply say 'yes', and Fifth would accept him into the Guild without further word.

"It…was wrong," he said, instead.

"Wrong?" Fifth repeated.

Something inside him burst at hearing the slightly condescending tone. Dammit, he wasn't a little boy anymore! "Yes, wrong." He bit back, his eyes locking defiantly with Fifth's. "Killing is wrong! You told me…" He stopped to draw in a breath, taking the moment to calm down. "You told me," he hissed, more in control, "that the Guild does not kill. You held this entire speech about codes and morals… Well, some joke that turned out to be-."

"That code still applies, Stef," Fifth interrupted him.

Stef fell abruptly silent, staring at the man as if he'd just told him cow grew wings at night. "What?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard.

"We don't kill. We never have. Thief's honor and all that, you know."

He felt as if someone had pulled a rug from underneath him. Solid ground suddenly turned into the sucking contents of a swamp. Everything he'd done up till now… Everything Marcel had told him! "But… but Marcel…"

The man's face turned grim, "Marcel had an agenda of his own. We suspected for a long time that he was the one responsible for the murders the cops blame us for, but we had no prove. We waited, hoping he would make a mistake. And now he has." Fifth looked at him expectantly.

Stef was at a loss for words, forced by those penetrating eyes, he began to put two and two together. The young thief looked up in shock.

Fifth nodded and simply stated, "Yes, he used you. And that was one mistake; the other was kidnapping two cops. That is something I can't allow."

"He's my friend! For Christ's sake, he was Will's friend!" He sunk to the ground to sit down in utter shock.

Fifth's voice softened a bit. "Tell me, he promised you Guild membership, did he?"

Stef nodded numbly. God, he'd been so stupid. Not only had he placed his trust in the one person who didn't deserve it, but he also helped in getting those cops killed. "But I didn't want it. The membership I mean." he sighed, staring at the opposite wall. "Not at that price. That's why I turned back just now… I wanted to see if I could prevent further… consequences."

The tall man towering over him showed a soft smile beneath his moustache, "Stef, not many people would have had the courage to turn back at this point. I've been watching you. If you had continued to go into the left hand tunnel, if you hadn't turned around…?"

Stef looked at him questioningly.

Fifth continued, "Then the Guild would have been out of your reach forever. But as it stands now, you made the right decision. You turned back trying to correct a mistake you made, and thus facing the consequences of your actions. You passed the test. Congratulations, you're in."

Stef stared at him in utter astonishment.

"Don't just sit there with your mouth open," Fifth grinned. "Come on, get up. We got us a couple of cops to save."

* * *

Starsky felt both furious and incredibly drained. He tried to get rid of the feeling that he was about to die. Anger at the whole situation, anger he hadn't felt since Bellamy had poisoned him was the only thing keeping him awake now. That and Hutch, who sat worriedly with his back against the cold stone of the altar. 

Although he couldn't see him Starsky knew he was following the whereabouts of both the priest and Marcel through cold blue eyes. Hutch shouldn't be here… dammit, he should've done the smart thing and stay away. He closed his eyes. That wasn't fair. He knew that if the situation had been reversed, he'd done exactly the same. "Hutch?" he whispered.

"Yeah," the answer came in the cold voice that Starsky had expected.

"You didn't… by any chance… tell the Cap… where you were going, did you?"

A short silence followed, and then, "I told Huggy. Don't worry… in about twenty hours he'll come to the rescue."

"Twenty hours?"

"Yup."

"Boy, you sure … know… how to cheer a guy up."

Approaching footsteps alerted him that both Marcel and Hermes were heading towards them. Their captor's expressions were unreadable, making them all the more deadly. Hutch quickly stood up, placing himself in front of the culprits. Starsky noticed Hermes was heading for the intravenous contraption: the IV and a hooked up bottle standing on a card that caught the escaping blood. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, his sweating intensified, _they better not try and take Hutch's blood next. _

Hermes picked up the needle, cleaned it, and held it up. His movements were stopped by the blond's icy stare. He turned his look at Starsky, and smiled. "Don't worry, Mister Starsky. As I said before: I can't use your blond friend."

"You have something to say then talk to me." Hutch said in a voice Starsky hardly recognised.

Marcel stepped forwards to face the blond. "Step aside."

"Don't feel like it."

"Hutch," Starsky warned, noticing the deadly look in the assassin's eyes…He'd seen that look before… in Nam. But Hutch ignored him, his temper ruling his actions. A rising panic took hold of him, knowing that when his partner got like this he couldn't stop him. Normally he'd let Hutch take charge right about now. But nothing seemed to be normal, making Starsky's out of control fears kick in once again. His hand shot out to grab the blond's arm to hold it in what must be a painful grip. "Hutch!"

Violently, Hutch tried to shrug himself loose. However, the ever deepening fear only made Starsky lock his fingers tighter around the straining muscles.

The blond whipped around, his eyes showing an anger Starsky hadn't seen in there for a long time. "What!" Hutch's expression softened as he apparently picked up on the warning in the brunet's eyes. Starsky let go of his arm.

"Your partner is wise." Marcel spoke to the blond.

It looked like the assassin hadn't moved, but Starsky knew better. The change was subtle, but there.

Marcel continued calmly to Hutch, "Now step aside, please."

"Do it," Starsky whispered, trying to control his anxiety.

Bewildered Hutch looked at him.

Starsky gave him a slight nod.

Biting his lip in resignation, the blond stepped back to let the priest hook up the IV to Starsky's arm.

Marcel left to stand back in the shadows again.

"What the hell was that all about!" Hutch hissed angrily at him.

"He was about to kill you."

"Come on, Starsk. Don't be ridiculous-"

The blood started to drain out of him through the IV and into a bottle standing on a metal wheeled contraption next to the altar. His partner reached for the needle now lodged in Starsky's arm.

"Dammit, Hutch!" anxiously he pulled away from his partner, who shot him a bitter look. Starsky knew the blond was close to loosing his patience… But he couldn't let Hutch take over… not now… Ever rising anxiety, caused by his weakening state as the blood kept dripping into the bottle, wouldn't let him. His low voice was bereft of all emotion except anger as he tried to counter his partner's stubbornness. "I've seen it in Nam. People like Marcel, trained assassins; they have ways to end your life in a split second. You don't see them coming. If you happen to work with them, all you'll notice is a slight change in there posture, pupils narrowing, that sort of thing… before they go for the kill."

The priest laughed, "Well done, Mister Starsky, another minute and that's exactly what I instructed Marcel to do. You just saved your partner's life, but it won't do you any good."

Starsky turned his attention to the priest.

Hermes studied him for a moment. "You're far too worked up. It's time to lay your fears to rest once and for all." He motioned for Marcel to move in again. He leaned in and with one move of the hand, released the bolt holding Hutch's chain in place. He turned to the blond. "Fair is fair detective Hutchinson. You need at least a fighting chance."

"NO!" Starsky leaped with an unnatural speed, propelled by the need to protect his partner's life, the chains barely restrained him as he went for the priest. The fear triumphantly turned into a red gaze of anger.

Hermes jumped backwards, but was too late. Starsky grabbed him by the robe, pulled him in and started choking him with the chains that still bound him to the altar. The priest's face turned a deep red as he desperately tried to take in some air. But Starsky only tightened his grip on the cold steel locked around the neck. He didn't hear anything anymore. He didn't hear the warning Marcel shouted at Hutch. He didn't see the moment of indecision on his partner's face. All he saw was the red blur; all he felt was the instinct to protect his partner.

"Starsk… Let go."

_No. Not a chance in hell._ He had enough of this… He wouldn't restrain himself like he had done with Prudholm. Back then he'd lowered his gun when Hutch's voice had made him realise what he was doing. Not this time. He couldn't afford to back down now. He let the rage take over, and felt its hot tentacles trying to consume him. There would be no compromises. No bargaining… just the kill. He'd sworn to never use the tactics he'd learned in Nam again, but now it was a price he was willing to pay. They would both get out… alive. No matter what the cost.

Just a few more seconds and the chain within his white knuckled fingers would do its job.

Unexpectedly, the blond's hands locked themselves around his fists.

"Get off!" he grunted at his partner. But Hutch kept his hands locked, trying to pry the priest from his grip. The anger reached boiling point. He didn't know how it happened, he didn't know how to stop it… but he lost all sense of reason. And the line he ones crossed, became easier to cross a second time. He released one hand from the chain, moving it quickly to close itself viciously around the blond's still bandaged wrist.

Hutch flinched. Opening his mouth in a silent pain filled scream, he didn't budge under Starsky's tightening grip. "Damn you, Starsk," he said hoarse, "I won't let you do this. You're NOT a killer. YOU'RE… NOT… A KILLER!"

Unable to feel anything but the burning rage deep inside him, not even Hutch's panicked voice got through to him. Hutch changed tactics and started pulling on the chain, thereby slackening the iron around the priest's neck. The brunet gave an angry cry when the man squirmed free to stand gaspingly to the side. With hate filled blue eyes, Starsky whipped around, ready to lash out at his partner. The killing rage needed an outlet, and this was it.

Desperately, Hutch tried to hold him off, unable to back down because Starsky still had his wrist in a vice-like grip, "Starsky!"

Starsky stopped himself… Just in time. Shaking with hard to control rage, he let go of his partner. Sitting very still for a moment, the brunet tried to catch his breath, his eyes carrying a haunted look. He snapped his head up to look at Hutch and spat at him, punctuating every word, "Why… did… you... stop... me?"

Then he felt it: a slight change in Hutch's stance, a shift in his demeanour. Hutch raised one finger towards him and he could see the veil of cold anger draping itself over his partner.

The draining effect of the IV, which despite the struggle was still lodged in his arm, suddenly caught up with him. He took a deep breath as the adrenaline slowly began seeping away from his body. He'd used up all his strength, everything he had left, and along with his body, his spirit collapsed. He watched his partner in despair, his voice quivering slightly. "Hutch, you can't… beat a guy… like him."

Hutch voice was determined; anger still very much a part of it, though it wasn't directed at him. "If you hadn't let go of Hermes, Marcel would've killed_ you_ first." His voice grew softer, "Don't worry… you know me. Nine lives… remember?"

Starsky lay back down again, the room swimming in front of him, "Right."

Hutch leaned in, staring straight into his eyes for a moment, before turning his attention to the needle, pulling it gently from his arm. The blond looked up again for a second.

"Hutch…don't…," Starsky whispered. He knew it was already too late. Too many fluids had been taken and he felt his body shutting down on him, "don't…"

_Trust me. _The words were spoken in silent, taking only a fraction of a second. But it was enough time for Starsky to suddenly realise what Hutch was planning. He reached out, _NO, DON'T!_

But Hutch had already turned around. He grabbed hold of the entire contraption and slammed it backwards into Marcel, who stood unsuspectingly to the side. He slummed backwards as the card collided hard with his body, the bottle on top of it breaking into a million pieces, splattering blood all over the assassin's face, hands and clothing.

Recovering quickly, the man smiled. "You want a fight, Hutchinson?" You got it.

* * *

**Tbc.**


	11. Liquids Chapter 14

The dialogue of this chapter is co-written with Starsky's Strut. Thank you Eli for letting us explore that church in Barcelona. Thank you all for your enthusiasm on this story.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 14**

Hutch didn't know where the anger had come from. All of a sudden it was just there. And it was a good thing to. Matching Starsky's anger hadn't been easy, but it was necessary. For having to watch him slowly succumb to the workings of fear was even worse. His partner's loss of blood didn't help matters. He knew he had to get him out of here or die trying. And that meant fighting Marcel.

He glowered down at the blood-smeared assassin now standing at the foot of the steps that lead to the high rise on which the altar was located. Hutch still stood in front of the stone slab, noticing from the corner of his eye that Starsky wasn't doing so well. Ever since the man had relinquished his anger and let Hutch take the reins, he was quickly loosing his battle against unconsciousness.

Some sections of the inner church were dark. There were parts where large scaffoldings, once used for restoration, obstructed the light coming in from the beautifully glass stained windows. It didn't look like there was much restoration being done lately, however. The scaffoldings looked ready to collapse at any second. _The church probably ran out of funds. That's probably also the reason why this place is such a ruin in the first place, _Hutch figured.

Marcel grinned evilly; his face lit by the torches placed in the niches lining the walls. He was motioning to Hutch, taunting him to come down and fight him.

Hutch took the few steps down. His feet kicked up dust that lay thickly on the rocky steps as if no one had set foot on it for ages. However, off to the side much of the dust had been scattered. No doubt by the church's current evil occupants. Taking a deep breath, Hutch moved towards the pews as Marcel started to circle around him. The statues of several holy figures seemed to watch them from the larger niches; the unmoving, lifeless witnesses adding a shroud of importance to the already built up tension.

One by one the assassin dropped his weaponry, mainly knifes, onto the floor. "I don't want to end it too soon, Detective. This way it'll still be worth my effort."

Hutch grimaced and backed away to step on the front row seat. He climbed over the backrest, thereby keeping the pew between him and his attacker.

Marcel laughed, "That's not going to do you any good." The man moved towards the pew, his eyes betraying the fact that he was really enjoying himself.

Hutch leaned in, putting his hands on the smooth backrest of the pew while Marcel stood dauntingly on the other side. "So," Hutch's voice sounded as dark as the woodwork he held beneath his grip. The flames of the torches changed into icy pinnacles as they reflected in his eyes, "What's in it for you?"

"More than you could ever imagine," Marcel bit back.

"I s'pose the kill means that much to you, huh?"

Marcel didn't answer. Instead he started to move to the corner of the wide bench to make his way around it. Sneaking his way between the two pews he moved up towards the blond.

Hutch was at least a few inches taller than Marcel, but he had the feeling that in this case size didn't matter. He stood his ground. "Is this the way The Guild handles all its problems? Just get rid of those standing in their way?"

His opponent's eyes glinted, "So, Stef told you about The Guild; a pitiful organisation with a pitiful leader. Before the hour is up my people will have killed Fifth Avenue and taken over the reins. The Guild's nothing without him. Under my rule no one'll have to abide by any code."

_Fifth Avenue? _Hutch suddenly had the sinking feeling that this thing was far bigger than he'd expected; far more epic. He sucked in his breath, suddenly realising that he was just a fly in the ointment. He and his partner were just small pinions in a battle that was way beyond his control. It wasn't just the priest and his –I–like-killing- assistant. There was a war going on between Marcel's men and The Guild. A war that was about to reach its climax, and he and Starsky were caught in the middle!

Caught off guard by Marcel's divulging piece of information, Hutch needed a moment to re-estimate his chances. The conclusion didn't look too good. A sliver of fear crawled up his spine, making him step back from the approaching assassin. Frantically, he looked around and spotted a piece of long wood on the floor between the pews, probably left behind by the construction workers.

Marcel stopped, letting him pick up the object. The man hissed at him, "By the time it's all over, Hutchinson, The Guild is mine and you'll both be dead. No one'll ever know what happened to you. No one'll ever find your bodies." Hutch barely stood up straight again when without further warning Marcel jumped forwards quick as a cat and attacked.

He swung the wood, but the assassin moved like a shadow; too quick for Hutch to home into. He missed. Before he knew what was happening, Marcel was behind him, reached out for his neck and pinched hard. The blond had no idea what the man had done, but all of a sudden an intense pain started to spread from his neck down. He dropped to the floor, giving an agonising cry, the wood rolling uselessly from his hand.

Silently, Marcel picked it up.

* * *

Deep inside the bowels of the earth at The Guild's headquarters, the figure in the wheelchair frowned as the electric light suddenly flickered. He was about to check the generator when a loud explosion made the cave shake to its foundations. In reflex he threw himself out of the chair and crawled under the table, using his arms to drag his body forwards. Sand, small stones and rubble came down on top of the wooden surface above him, clattering on the table top.

When it was over he cursed. Someone had just blown up the armory. That could only mean one thing; Marcel's men were finally making their move. The Guild was under attack.

* * *

The ground shook, throwing the two against the rock hard wall of the tunnel heading upwards to the church. Behind the stone barrier Stef could hear something breaking; the loud noise was followed by the deafening sound of rushing water. "What the hell was that?" he asked, fearfully.

Fifth cursed, which sounded very funny coming from a man dresses as sophisticated as he was. "Damn, the old sewer beneath the church. It's collapsing because of the explosions."

"Explosions?" Stef asked bewildered, his voice high pitched with fright.

But Avenue didn't seem to hear him, "Curse Marcel, I didn't expect him to attack us this soon. We're not ready."

"Fifth! What explosions?"

The Guild's leader finally seemed to notice him, "Looks like your friend Marcel knows what he's doing. He just blew up the armory located beneath the church; thereby severely weakening our defences. I have to go back."

"Back? But what about Starsky and Hutch?" His voice sounded frantic now.

"You go on and help them." When all Stef could do was look at him wide eyed, Fifth added, "I know you can do it. I have to go back and help my men. They can't fight Marcel's people on their own. There are certain steps to be taken; emergency plans to take effect. I need to be there."

"But-"

"GO! There isn't much time. Soon this area will be flooded."

After a brief hesitation, Stef nodded his assent. What other choice did he have? "Take care of yourself."

Fifth smiled, "Don't worry, these caves are my home. Marcel won't drive us out that easily." He turned around and disappeared into an adjoining passageway, leaving Stef on his own.

The small thief tried to ignore the small rumblings caused by distant explosions beneath his feet. Hoping that the ceiling wouldn't cave in on him, he bravely proceeded to make his way up. He knew he was nearly there and prayed he would be in time to make some sort of a difference.

* * *

The despair written on the brunet's face held Hermes fixed to the spot. He looked from Starsky to Hutch who'd rolled underneath the pew to surface on the other side, holding a new found piece of wood. _You have to give the man points for trying,_ Hermes mused.

Marcel had jumped over the wide bench. Hutch was still lying on the floor, holding up the wooden bar to block Marcel's blows. Viciously, the man brought his own bar down on the blond. With each impact Hermes saw the cop's muscles weaken. He studied his co-conspirator; Marcel wore the glee of a killer; his aggression increasing with every bounced back blow. Hutch deflected the oncoming bar time and time again; ducking to the left as one blow nearly hit his head. The bar hit the ground with an impact that would have easily split his skull in half.

The priest smiled and looked back at Starsky. The brunet obviously couldn't see what was going on, but seemed to sense his partner's predicament nevertheless.

That wasn't good; the man was still struggling.

Hermes leaned in, subtly influencing his charge with his voice and purposefully raising the hypnotic effect. The whispers were meant to carry the brunet over the threshold of unconsciousness and from there into death. "Can't you hear him? He's losing the battle, like you're going to lose yours."

If anything, it only served to wake up Starsky entirely. His eyes glinted with unshed tears as he desperately tried to fight the soothing sounds. The words made him squirm and fight back. Hermes cursed under his breath but kept his focus; ready to start his deadly song again. All of a sudden a loud cracking noise tore his attention away from the brunet.

Marcel had broken the bar that Hutch held up with a heart wrenching snap. The blond looked at it in surprise. The assassin smiled, standing up straight to lift the deadly object in his hands. Hutch violently back peddled into one of the niches, a seclusion off to the side that held the man-sized statue of The Shepard. At one time the niche had been closed off by a large black iron gate that now stood halfway open. Hutch moved behind it, followed closely by Marcel.

Hermes knew Marcel's capabilities. Although the blond was strong, the assassin's experience would make short work of him now. He turned back to the altar. The blood he drank sang within him, translating soothing sounds into words, "He's lost." making sure Starsky drank every word, he continued to whisper, "Just like you're lost. But you don't have to be if you follow me. Follow my voice… Let him go."

Starsky pulled hard on the chains but they wouldn't budge, "HUTCH!"

"He's going to die. There's nothing you can do… Accept it; you'll be at peace."

Although still fighting it -Starsky's trembles had intensified- hypothermia and shock began to do their job. Hermes smiled softly. He was winning. The brunet was ready to give in. He nodded when Starsky started to settle down, "That's good. Don't be afraid…"

Starsky stared at him with clouded eyes. They shifted to the ceiling, watering in a final effort to stay awake. "Stef…" he whispered. "Help him… Oh, God."

Hermes reached out to put a hand on the clammy brow. The brunet was becoming delirious; an effect caused by the body's fruitless attempts to cling on to life. He'd witnessed it in other victims; it never lasted long. "Give up, detective. It's over… Be at peace."

With no more energy left to fight, Starsky finally caved in. His eyes closed, his trembles stopped, and quietly he slipped away into the darkness of unconsciousness; a darkness that Hermes knew all too well. It would welcome the detective with open arms. He sighed with relief as he watched the brunet's silent descent into death, "It's done."

* * *

Tbc 


	12. Liquids Chapter 15

Thanks to all the usual suspects!

* * *

**Chapter 15**

The old rusty sewer pipes beneath the church creaked and moaned when its foundation fell away due to the explosion underneath. The aged walls of the pipes were ill equipped against the violent destruction and burst open, spilling out its highly pressurized contents.

Most of the sewer's content had consisted of water, but over the years methane gas, a result of the decomposition of organic materials, had began to pool. The water went down, but the sewer gas was light and went up… through the layers of sand, through the cracks and air vents of the old stone floor and into the church itself. There it began covering the ground in a thin deadly blanket, crawling its way along the perimeter.

All it needed now was a spark.

* * *

Hutch scrambled behind the pitch-black iron bars. His hands were covered in dust and stung from the small rocky particles that had embedded themselves in his unprotected flesh. The seclusion he found himself in was quite wide. Partly closed off by the gate and windowless, it formed a little room onto itself. Ignoring his enflamed palms, he backed away against the pedestal, desperately trying to use the thing to get back onto his feet. Feeling sluggish and slow, he had to concentrate hard to get his muscles to cooperate. He groaned in pain when his attempts to move sent his nervous-system into overdrive, his neck hurting like hell. 

It was dark; there were no brackets here, no torches inside this niche. The disturbed air, which was mixed with a fungi smell to form a graveyard like odor, felt clammy to his sweat- covered skin, sucking away the warmth his overheated body was producing. It suddenly crossed his mind that this was the perfect place for a murder scene. However, before that thought could take hold, Marcel was upon him.

Propped up against the concrete pedestal of the statue, he frantically tried to avoid the oncoming wooden bar. He lunged sideways, pain shot down his spine, rendering him momentarily paralysed. The weapon splintered into a million pieces when it hit the large granite figure instead.

Moaning, he failed to anticipate Marcel's next move. He should have known the assassin had another knife hidden. Leaning on one of his elbows, all he saw was the glint of steel. Sharp reflexes broke through the numbness of his body, his trembling fist locking onto the knife-holding hand with counter-force. The impact slammed him backwards into the floor, his back colliding hard with the stone, driving the air from his lungs. Marcel took advantage of gravity; leaning in, he pushed. Hutch felt his muscles failing, tiring from the momentary lapse of oxygen and from the instilled pain emanating from his neck down.

Suddenly his hand cramped. Still soar and stiff from having his wrist slashed, his strength gave way. His eyes grew wide as the knife came down. Marcel smiled when resistance faltered and he obviously saw his chance to finish the fight with one quick thrust. Hutch groaned, closing his eyes against the unavoidable outcome.

* * *

Stef sat in shock on the balcony situated above the high rise, looking down upon the surreal scene spreading beneath him. Frozen at the sight, he recognised the figure lying in shackles on the altar. _Oh my God_. There was blood everywhere; on the floor, on a man who looked suspiciously like a priest, and on Marcel who was busy driving the blond into a corner. His eyes drifted nervously from Hutch to Starsky and back to Hutch again. 

The stairs to this little concrete balcony, which probably served as a pulpit in the old days, were close to where he'd come in. He'd figured to do a quick survey before putting his own life on the line. No need to go that way, if it wasn't necessary. But the unexpected scenery extinguished any thoughts of getting both men quietly out of here.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He was pretty sure he could take on the priest. But that would mean losing the blond. Pondering his options, he made a hard decision. He couldn't reach Hutch, not before Marcel would finish him off. He would have to make his way down and run all the way over to the niche Hutch had disappeared in. There wasn't enough time, and besides, he wasn't even sure he could take Marcel. He closed his eyes, not daring to think about the consequences of his decision. _The priest it is then. _That way, at least one of the cops would make it out alive.

"…Stef…"

Startled by the sound of his own name his eyes locked with the brunet's who's soft words nevertheless echoed through the bows of the church, connecting with a part of his heart that he thought had died along with Will.

"…Help him… Oh God."

_Help… your friend? But what about you?_ The answer was embedded in the helpless plea Starsky shot upwards. Involuntarily Stef shook his head. _I can't! They're too far away!_ But he understood; he understood all too well. Unable to resist the brunet's panicked call, his eyes flicked over to the niche. There was a scaffold close by; one that he could reach from here. He didn't _have_ to go all the way down. With any luck…

He looked down, his eyes growing slightly wide at seeing the priest covering the brunet's eyes with his bony hand, mumbling a few words, which he couldn't hear. When the hand was removed, Starsky was lying still on the altar, no longer seeing anything, no longer moving; quiet, asleep… or even worse. Stef bit his lip, feeling the familiar surge of helplessness wash over him again. _Just like when Will…;_ He halted his thought, transmuting it into bitterness and purpose. _I'll get him out… No more hiding… No more watching from a safe position…Your friend won't die… I promise._

Not wasting anymore time, Stef climbed over the balcony and expertly made his way over to some statues. Jumping from head to head using every ounce of balance he could muster, he reached a scaffold. Running across it he jumped to a wide window-recess and from there over to another scaffold set close to the niche. He dropped his backpack on the upper part of the structure and reached inside the pack to get out the only thing that he hoped would do the job.

He climbed partially down the side of the scaffolding and gripped the metal frame with one hand. Carefully, he peered around the corner of the niche. His breath caught at the sight. Marcel had Hutch pinned against a statue and was only seconds away from thrusting the knife clean through his chest.

There was no time to draw a knife, no time for any sophistication. He held on to the scaffolding with one hand and with the other, lit the firecracker. Stef threw it in the direction of the black gate, as he didn't want it to land near the fighting men. He didn't want it to injure the blond. He hoped the firework would distract Marcel enough for Hutch to make a move.

The moment he smelled the foul stench of excrement, Stef realised his mistake.

* * *

A painfully loud bang and a red flash made Hutch open his eyes in shock. The black gate flew out of its rusty hinges and crashed into Marcel who was blown forwards. The unconscious assassin landed on top of him, the knife missing his chest by inches, hitting the tiled floor instead, its metallic blade breaking in half with an audible snap. 

A tremendously loud explosion followed the first one. Close to the niche, Hutch caught a glimpse of a torch going up in a loud burst. Gripped by fear at suddenly finding himself in the middle of Hell, he tried to get up but couldn't move a muscle. The loud bangs deafened him, making it seem very likely that the church was collapsing around him. A powerful air displacement followed, and at the same time a terrifying whooshing sound increased tenfold; the sound of flammable objects nearby catching fire.

Coughing, Hutch tried once again to move the heavy gate. It didn't budge. The thick, smoke-filled air was hard to breathe, the hot particles scorching his lungs. The secluded niche, and ironically both Marcel and the iron frame of the gate, had protected him from the worse of the explosions. But if he didn't find a way to get this weight off of him, he would be a dead man.

Suddenly a soot-covered face appeared above him, seeming to float in the smoky haze. "Are you all right?"

Hutch frowned. He wouldn't have recognised Stef if it weren't for his voice. "Do… I … look all right!" he bit back, barely getting the words out. He hadn't forgotten the young thief's foul play down in the tunnel system. "Just … get … me … out."

Stef grinned, "I take that as a 'yes' then. C'mon, you push, I pull." He started to pull on the heavy iron frame, "Sorry it took me so long to get here; I fell off of the scaffold." Stef twisted his face in his effort to lift the heavy gate.

Hutch couldn't help but give a satisfying snort, "Hurt… did it?"

The gate scraped the floor, sliding sideways and off Marcel. Stef let go and the heavy thing clattered on the ground. "I guess I deserved that remark," he said, owning up to his mistake in the tunnel system.

Grunting, Hutch rolled the unconscious man off of him. He lay panting for a while, listening to Stef's explanation for the sudden explosion.

"It's sewer gas from the old drainage beneath us! Damn well knocked me off of the scaffold. We have to hurry! Stef urged, "The methane is temporarily gone; instantly used up by the fire; but if I'm right, a larger pool of the stuff is still trapped underground, and that pool is getting bigger! You don't want to be here when the sewer collapses and releases all of it at once, trust me. The whole church will blow up!"

Hutch heard him and tried to roll over to push himself on hands and knees. Grinding his teeth he tried to quell the sheer agony that moving seemed to cause him.

"I thought you said you weren't hurt?" Stef's voice sounded slightly panicking now.

"I'm not…" The air grew thicker, and seemed to get stuck in his lungs. A coughing fit racked his system. "It's something Marcel did…" he said when his lungs momentarily cleared and his eyes stopped watering. Noticing Stef's reached out hand he grabbed it.

"A neck pinch…The trick is to keep moving, the pain'll go away! Hurry! I promised him to keep you alive, Dammit!"

Halfway on his feet Hutch froze, clenching the boy's hand tighter than he planned. "Stef, my partner, did you get him off the altar!" _Inwardly, he already knew the answer. If Starsky had been freed, he'd be the one standing in front of him now. Not Stef._

The sudden silence made the bile of true fear rise in his throat. Just a few minutes ago, he thought he'd been dying. He'd been scared, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Having Marcel try to kill him? That he could live with… But if Hermes had killed his partner…

Letting go of the hand, Hutch straightened to stagger in the direction of the altar.

"There wasn't enough time," Stef finally spoke, his voice shaking "The priest… he… did something to him… and he just…" Tears clogged the brown eyes, rendering him speechless for a second.

The words and their meaning sank in. Faced with a terrifying scenario, Hutch mercilessly whipped around to grab the boy by his shoulders and rattled him hard. "And you just walked away? You watched and walked away? Just like you did with me down in the tunnels?"

"I had to choose! I couldn't save you both. He wanted me to help you! What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"You shouldn't have given him the choice! Dammit!" Hutch marched out.

Stef's voice sounded behind him, frail and scared, "I understand, I do! But I couldn't refuse his-"

Turning just outside the niche Hutch cut him off, pointing a finger at him, "You don't understand; you can never understand!" He continued in an ice-cold voice, "You should have chosen him."

Not waiting for reaction, he raced over to the altar, noticing that the fire was still localised. Flaming tongues had started to lick on the wooden pews and scaffoldings close by, but hadn't reached the rest of the church yet. Small fires were burning off the low concentration of methane released by the first explosion. The suffocating smoke reached his nostrils and he coughed. Pulling a cloth out of his pocket to cover his mouth he raced towards the high rise where the altar stood, a pocket of silence amidst a blazing world. "Starsk!"

Reaching his pale-faced partner, Hutch shook him carefully. Dread caught his heart in a vice-like grip. Cold, Starsky felt cold to his touch. Dropping the cloth, he leaned in to lay an ear on his partner's chest.

There was a heartbeat.

Then a soft moan that made him sigh with relief. "Come on, buddy," he spoke softly. "I gotta get you out of here." Suddenly, the horror of the situation hit him. Starsky was still chained to the altar. And the priest, the only one with the key, was nowhere to be seen. There was no way he could get the shackles off, no way to unlock the bolts binding Starsky to the concrete slab. Frantically, he looked around for something, anything that would help him free his partner.

"STEF!" he yelled, fighting down the rising panic, hoping that the boy's lock-picking skills could do some good. He looked up to find the young thief racing for the front doors. Stef had to hear him but seemed to ignore his call completely. "STEF!" he yelled in despair, his previous angry behaviour at the boy coming back to him._ What the hell was I thinking, telling him he'd never understand! He knows what it's like to lose someone. I had no call to throw his decision, which must have been hard enough to make, back into his face. _But it was too late now. He couldn't take it back.The boy was running, and he couldn't blame him. Helplessly, Hutch watched Stef disappear behind a large pillar.

"God, Starsk… I'm so sorry." He bit his lip.

"Hutch… Go." The sound of his partner's voice brought a tear to his already watering vision, soothing the sharp sting the smoke seemed to cause. A set of blue eyes blinked at him. "Go."

All Hutch could do was shake his head. He grabbed onto his partner's chained hand and looked up again. "Sorry, pal," he whispered, making sure Starsky didn't hear him. "But I'm staying put."

* * *

Tbc 


	13. Liquids chapter 16

To those of you who've read this... I changed POV in the first part. Thanks everyone for your support. You really help keep this story going.

**

* * *

****Chapter 16**

Locking his fingers around an iron bar he found, Hutch tried to wrench the iron ring, which was connecting one of the chains to the altar, loose. The ring wouldn't budge. With an exasperated sigh he threw the bar on the floor in unkempt frustration. His eyes flew around the room, searching for another way to free him, all the while avoiding Starsky's stare, not wanting to look at the chains, at the sight that made his blood boil. He turned to search the floor for something smaller; a pin perhaps, to try and pick the locks.

The smoke prevented him to do a thorough search. Frantically he kicked the dust, but there was nothing in it that could be of help. His eyes watered again, the smoke stinging like crazy. He took a deep breath, coughed and closed his eyes. Leaning with both hands on the altar to relieve some of his chest-pains, he tried not to give in to the despair that was steadily overwhelming him.

"Hey."

Hutch opened his eyes at the comfort resonating in that small word. A warm soul behind blue eyes met his.

Chains rattled and the brunet caught his hand again, causing him to loose the grip he had on his feelings. Unable to voice them Hutch shook his head and looked away. Biting his lip, he stared up into the smoky atmosphere. Without looking down he could tell Starsky was loosing his fight to stay awake. There had been a peace in his partner's eyes that he didn't want to accept. A peace, he knew, Hermes had put there.

"Y…You don't have the k…key, do you?" Starsky asked with closed eyes, changing the subject as he obviously read Hutch's pain but didn't know how to quell it. When the blond couldn't answer immediately, his eyelids fluttered partly open. "Hutch?"

"No," Hutch answered hoarsely.

Starsky sighed, his next words containing a bit more bite, "Then… what… are you… still… doing… here?"

A soft, whispered plea followed, "Starsky, don't ask me that." _You know what I'm still doing here… You can't seriously expect me to-"_

"This whole church is gonna go… You wanna die like that, huh?"

"Starsky," Hutch sighed, frightened… close to panic now.

The hold on his hand clenched in equal panic, "You hafta… go. You hafta… go on."

Hutch shook his head in denial, his voice small now, "I'm not leaving you behind. I can't-" The blond caught his breath and closed his eyes.

Starsky pulled him in. He didn't resist, embracing the warmth of his partner. "Don't be stupid," the brunet spoke hoarsely into his ear, "Just go."

The floor shook hard. Hutch stance changed from comforting to protective, covering Starsky's body with his own; he could feel the brunet tremble with fatigue. He felt the clammy sweat on his partner's skin, felt his own heart beating in his throat as his body sucked up Starsky's warmth. _Please God, let the church hold for a few moments more. _Rubble was falling down on top of them, the smoke increased, but then the violent shaking of the floor stopped. The church was still standing. Hutch knew they couldn't be so lucky a second time, just as he knew the warmth wouldn't last.

Starsky's hand fell away from his shoulder. "Go," he whispered, "Huh? Just do it."

So many thinks to say… so many words he couldn't find. Hutch straightened to silently take a step back, not breaking the eye contact. _He's so quietly accepting his faith. It's not like him. It's damn well not like him. _Bitterness mastered him… bitterness that turned into deep abiding loyalty, bitterness that turned into stubbornness. Hutch's voice dropped an octave, his voice rigid and unrelenting, "No."

The single word, the love and conviction behind it, ripped away the peaceful spell Hermes had put upon his partner. A visible shudder racked through his body and Starsky turned his head away as the single word seemed to shatter the pull death head on him. His will to live returned… and with the love of life also came the fear. "Oh God…"

Hutch was beside him in seconds. Tightly closing two hands around his partner's shaking hand and wrist, chains and all and held on fiercely. "It's okay… I'm here…"

"M scared…"

"I know. I know that, buddy."

Starsky clung to the hands and blinked. "Never thought… I'd go this way, you know… in a church… I'm not even… a…a Catholic." He closed his eyes. Hutch could feel him fading beneath his hands. "So tired…"

"Stay with me, dammit!"

The anger shook the brunet ruthlessly out his stupor. The eyes focussed once more and he managed a weary smile, "'Kay… I'll…I'll try."

* * *

A vague shape, white and seeming to float through the smoke, was making its way to the front door. Suppressing the sudden image of ghosts taking over the church, Stef drew a knife and ran after it. Cutting off the very real man's path, he asked mockingly, "Where do you think, you're going?" His voice was hoarse, making him sound more dangerous than he felt. 

The priest took a step back, "Stef?" Raising both his hands in false surrender, he asked, "Y… You wouldn't harm an unarmed man, would you?"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't?" He could tell the priest was gauging his chances. Exactly how dangerous could Stef be?

Pulling himself up straight, the man reclaimed some of his pride. "I'm heading out, and if you're wise, you'd do the same." The priest continued with carefully spoken words, "Why don't you come with me? I could use someone like you; especially since you seem to have beaten Marcel."

Stef gave a grim smile, "Sorry." Taking a step closer, he pointed the knife in the priest's direction. "But my allegiance lies elsewhere."

The priest snorted, "Those two cops? You can't help them anymore." He nodded back at the altar, "The man's chained. The blond won't leave him; misplaced loyalty if you ask me. They're both dead." A thin sly smile crept into the priest's parchment-like features, "I could, off course, give you the key. But what good will that do you now? The brunet's a goner anyway.

Stef couldn't help but smugly raise his hand to dangle the key in the priest's face. Picking pockets had always been one of his strong points.

"Why, you little-" The priest began started, his eyes shooting fire.

But Stef interrupted him, "Move to the altar,"

The white robed man took a step back. Obviously having no intention to obey, he said, "Now Stef… You do know it's not me you want, do you? It's Marcel."

"What about him?" Stef asked suspiciously, wary of any escaping move the priest might make. He eyed the fire. How long before the sewer beneath them would give way?

"Well… He's the one who killed Will."

He froze, staring into the priest's cold grey eyes, the fire forgotten.

"Oh, didn't you know?" His voice turned purposefully sad, "No, I guess not."

"You're lying," Stef said bitterly, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him. And the priest picked up on it.

"Am I? You see… Will found out about Marcel's plans to take over The Guild, years ago. So he had to be… taken care off. Marcel's very strict in that."

Stef shook his head in denial, unconsciously lowering the knife. "No… Marcel helped me after Will died."

The priest spoke harshly and took a step forwards, "To keep an eye on you. To keep any suspicion The Guild and Fifth Avenue might have off of him."

It made sense; it made way too much sense. He was hurtled back in time in space to that one moment when Will, instead of running from his attackers, had drawn a knife. Stef had always assumed it had been the police who'd killed his brother, had always been puzzled by the fact why Will had tried to take on the cops. But if one of them had been Marcel, Will would have recognised him, recognised the danger he was in.

Marcel killed him… just like that. The pool… all that blood…

Clenching his hand around the knife he still held, his mind focussed on the present, on the niche where he'd left the assassin, forgetting about the priest standing two feet away from him.

"How well did Marcel teach you the ropes, huh? Are you really prepared to kill me, Stef? Marcel would, you know." The priest moved slowly towards the door, carefully making his way around him.

Startled by the fake warm voice Stef was pulled back to reality. He raised the knife, but knew instantly that he couldn't back up his threat.

The priest smiled victoriously. Then turned and walked steadfastly towards the doors.

Lowering the weapon, Stef saw him go.

A violent lurch of the floor made him loose his footing. Debris fell from the ceiling, the loud rumble indicating small and large pieces hitting the ground. He dove between the pews, just as a loud deafening clap sounded nearby, sending tremors through the stone cold tiles he was lying on. He coughed -the smoke seemed to have intensified- and stood up again, peering through the white mists. The ceiling near the doors had partly collapsed. A twisted sense of justice made him grimly bite his lip as he discerned the scene in front of him.

The priest had never made it out.

* * *

His arms and feet felt lighter. Had Hutch let go of him? Surprised he opened his eyes to find Stef opening the shackles. One by one the chains fell away, clattering onto the floor. 

"Come on…" The boy urged.

Starsky moved because Hutch wanted him to. Moved because his friend wouldn't leave without him and this was the only way to get him out. So once again he struggled against unconsciousness and got up; struggled to set one foot in front of the other, leaning heavily on his partner. He moved… and the whole world seemed to move around him, spinning out of control.

He fell, but was picked up again by two sets of hands. Heaving, he was dragged ruthlessly through the building fire, through thick, choking smoke. In the distance, between the swirls of a topsy-turvy world, there was the outlined safety of a door; an opening away from this hellhole.

Just a few more steps…

* * *

"Captain." 

"Huggy! You better have a damn good excuse for waking me up in the middle of the night! Do you know what time it is?"

"Cap, you know that old church two miles out of town?"

"This had better be good, Huggy."

"Word has it that the fireworks that just happened out there made the fourth of July's display look like child play."

"So what are you telling me?"

"It blew up half an hour ago."

"Iunderstood that much! _Why_ are you telling me this?"

"Cap'n, I have reason to believe two of our mutual friends were inside."

"You mean Starsky and Hutch? Unlikely, Hutch wouldn't have gone off without letting the department know where he went."

"He let _me_ know, Cap… said to give him twenty hours."

Dobey straightened slightly, "How the hell am I suppose to run this show with everyone having private parties all the time!"

"From what I've learned, I don't think he had a choice. The point is that I think our two heroes have bitten off a little more than they can chew. There's nothing left of that church, if they were inside…"

A short silence fell before Dobey managed to say in a gruff voice, "You better tell me everything you know."

* * *

Tbc 


	14. Liquids Chapter 17

Just two or three more chapters, and then this story is done. Thanks to all the usual suspects.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

"Th… thirsty."

In the light of the lonely candle Stef had found, his partner's pale features resembled those of the dead. Both the cot, which Starsky currently occupied, and the cupboard looked totally out of place in this less than homely environment. Hutch shuddered, trying not to let the dark shadows of this underground chamber they'd managed to reach right before the methane ignited and the church exploded, get to him. Instead he focussed on getting some fluids into the man. Kneeling down at his partner's side he gently put the goblet-like object to his pale lips. "Here, drink this," he said, while putting a hand underneath his head to lift it.

Starsky took a sip and, obviously expecting it to be water, immediately spat it out again. "What… is that?" He coughed.

"Wine… It was the only thing we could find." Hutch nodded at the cupboard.

"You… sure… it's not… something else…"

"It's not blood, I checked… Now drink it."

Obediently Starsky drank a considerable amount of the stuff. Putting the empty goblet away Hutch asked softly, "Feel better?" 

"Room…stopped…spinning." Turning his head to eye his surroundings, Starsky squinted, and then frowned. The wine must have helped, because the brunet's eyes seemed to clear. "Hush… looks an … awful… lot… like… a… catacomb… in here." Hutch removed his hand, but Starsky kept his head up, giving him a reprimanding look, "I'm not… dead… yet, ya know."

Stef's soft whisper coming from a dark corner broke through the still, dust filled air and echoed off the walls, "It's a burial chamber; there are a couple of them underneath this church. I'm guessing our man of the cloth slept here."

The brunet laid his head back down again, "T'riffic… "

Hutch smiled. Brushing the dust from his pants, he stood up; studying the catacomb a bit closer. It didn't contain much, the cot and cupboard, and a stone tomb at the back, obviously containing someone important, flanked by two knight-like statues on either side. On the top of the steps behind him, the doorway to the church was blocked with stone and rubble. The only way out was a way the young thief was about to show them.

"Cosy little sleeping area," Hutch observed.

"Yeah," Stef said, his voice coming from behind the statue on the right. A scraping noise; the knight pivoted on its pedestal to reveal a trapdoor underneath. The thief's voice turned urgent, "We can't stay here… come on."

Hutch felt a little hesitation at going down into the tunnels again after what had happened last time. "Starsk, think you can try and sit up a bit, huh?"

His partner moved without a word. Hutch bent down, letting Starsky throw one arm over his shoulder. Pulling the brunet up, the blond securely held on to him. "Here we go again," Hutch muttered, leading his partner to the trapdoor. He peered down.

Holding the candle, Stef was standing a couple of steps down the concrete stairs disappearing deep beneath him. "You think you can manage it?"

Hutch knew what he meant. The stairs were small, very small, and barely wide enough to fit one man. "Yeah," he answered, readjusting Starsky's weight. Turning a little, so his partner was behind him, instead of next to him, he carefully took the first few steps down the narrow stairway. The stench reaching up towards them intensified with every step. Hutch coughed again, clenching his teeth against the pain his bruised ribs caused him as he strained them to try and keep his partner upright.

To his surprise the weight on his shoulder suddenly lessened. Meeting his partner's eyes, Starsky nodded grimly, "Wine helped…" he muttered, standing more or less on his own two feet but still holding on to the blond for support. He nodded again when Hutch, who knew full well that Starsky was trying to relieve his partner's pain by lessening the burden, didn't move.

_Okay, but don't be a hero Starsk, I'm here when you need me…._ Hutch broke eye contact, and proceeded to make his way down. Starsky still leaned on his shoulder, but to keep from falling also used the wall for support. Hutch guessed they'd made it about thirty steps down when the concrete walls on either side changed to rock. The walls were wet; drops of filthy liquid slid off of them, accumulating into little streams of sewer waste, cascading down the stairs, making every step a slippery experience.

When they finally did reach the bottom, after twenty more steps or so, the blond nearly tripped as he plunged into ankle-deep water that had flooded the lower passageway. The upside was that the tunnel had widened significantly and, despite the stench, Hutch found he was able to breathe easier.

Behind him Starsky groaned. Sensing the pain his partner was in, Hutch whipped around to get a hold of him as his friend's legs and arms twitched with sudden cramps. "I got you… try to relax." Hutch lent him his support, relieving the strain on Starsky's limbs as once again the brunet's strength seemed to drain away as quickly as it had come.

"'S okay… I'm okay." Starsky muttered, "Less go…"

Hutch obeyed. But the ankle deep water was cold, and underneath his hands, although his skin felt hot to the touch, Starsky started to shiver. _Hot…but not sweating… That's not good. Hang on buddy… Hang on. _As he followed Stef's candlelight, every splashing step echoed loudly in the tunnel around him. When the young thief disappeared around corners of the winding passageway Hutch had to feel his way ahead, stumbling forwards through the dark spaces where the light ceased to reach.

"Hush?"

"Yeah," Hutch answered, heaving slightly from his partner's weight.

"Whass that we're… stepping…on? Floor's… soft."

Hutch couldn't help but release a snort, "Trust me, partner…" he breathed, nearly choking on the stench and feeling light-headed from the methane floating around, "you don't want to know."

After five minutes stumbling through ice-cold sewer water and excrement, the floor began to dry. _Thank God. _Hutch thought relieved, _I wouldn't have lasted another mile in this stuff. _

Stef had stopped at a three way crossing. Entering the small circle of light surrounding the boy, Hutch asked, "Which way?" Anxiously he peered into the tunnel, branching away from them.

"This is where we split up."

"What!" Hutch snapped; turning on Stef so fast Starsky nearly lost his footing.

In the fiery yellow glow, the boy's brown eyes seemed to change to a warmer colour as they reflected his obvious dilemma. "I _need _to find Marcel," he stated softly.

The slither of coldness in his voice didn't go unnoticed. Briefly he thought back at his own words. _"Get Marcel!"_ Hutch had shouted nearly reaching the safety of the door leading down to the catacombs.

Stef's answer had been quick, _"I already checked! He's gone! Must have taken the opportunity to escape."_

In the here and now Hutch frowned, "What's so damn important about Marcel? I want to find him as much as you do, but if I don't get my partner out right now, he's not going to make it!"

Stef's stance straightened at the angry tone. "He's going after Fifth Avenue, Detective. And for your information I owe Avenue far more than just my life. I don't like it either but I have to try and stop him. And if I don't leave now, it'll be too late."

Hutch could see reason in those words, but the state his partner was in and the fear of loosing him clouded his judgement. "Stef, I don't know one tunnel from another! How 'm I going to find my way out?"

"Just keep following the tunnels to the left hand side until you come to another three-way crossing." Stef explained, pointing to one of the tunnels. "Then take the tunnel right; It'll lead straight up and out." Stef handed over the candle.

There was something in his voice that told Hutch the boy wasn't being entirely honest with him. He was holding back. Hutch clapped his hand around the small wrist just as Stef released the candleholder. "You're not planning something stupid, are you?"

Stef looked him straight in the eye, "He killed Will." He said coldly. The revelation made Hutch release his hold. "And now he's going to kill Fifth. I can't let that happen."

Hutch spoke up his voice equally low. "Killing him is not the answer, Stef."

The young thief turned his head away, avoiding the blond's stare. "Maybe… Maybe not. Look, you just get your friend out, okay? Don't worry about me… I know what I'm doing."

"Who's worrying?" Starsky slurred.

"Stef!" Hutch yelled, powerless to stop him, his voice a mixture of fear and frustration as the boy turned and ran down the adjoining passageway.

"Can't… change… what he is… Hutch," Starsky murmured.

"He's not a murderer, Starsk… Not yet."

"I know…" Starsky's voice had fallen to a whisper again.

Hutch sighed; at least Stef hadn't left him lost this time. "Okay… come on; the quicker we get you out of here, the better." **

* * *

**

"Has it been taken care off?" Marcel asked the deceptively small man standing in front of him.

"Yes," the answer came in a weasel-like voice. "We destroyed all their means off escape. The only tunnels still standing are the ones leading straight here." The smile turned evil, "Straight to their doom."

Marcel nodded and looked up at the massive cave surrounding the twenty-five men bound to take over The Guild. "This cave will make a nice little trap. We can hide up there. They'll never know what hit them."

**

* * *

**

Dismayed, Hutch eyed the destruction in front of him. Releasing the hold he had on his partner, he sank down on one of the large boulders strewn all over the place. He shook his head… Stef's instructions were accurate to the letter, and after fifteen minutes they'd reached the three-way crossing… Or what was left of it.

From the three tunnels, only two were remaining. One was the one they came in from, the other was the tunnel located all the way to the left. The other one was destroyed, no doubt by Marcel's handy work.

"It'll be all right." Starsky spoke softly; leaning against the wall just beneath the one torch that had managed to stay burning. Hutch had put the candle down and looked up at the flushed face staring down at him. "We'll just take the left one… it's bound to lead somewhere," He said; his mouth dry, and sounding thick with saliva.

_I guess the wine wasn't enough, _Hutch thought desperately. _He's badly dehydrated... Damn that priest! _"Starsky," Hutch struggled to try and keep the defeat out of his voice. "It's a maze down here. That tunnel might go anywhere or nowhere at all. It can take ages before we find an exit." _And you don't have that long, buddy._

The corner of the brunet's mouth twitched in an acknowledging motion. Hutch didn't miss the dizzy spells that made his partner's voice waver, "You got… a better… idea?"

"No." _No, I don't._ They locked eyes for a few seconds. _Dizzy… warm skin, thick voice... he needs fluids, salts, liquids... _Standing up,Hutch reached for his partner's wrist. Starsky let him, obviously feeling too weak to resist. Another symptom Hutch didn't like. He felt for his pulse. It was faint. _Low blood pressure; it means he's close to shock. God…what the hell do I do? I can't leave him here, but walking will kill him even faster. _"How are you feeling?"

Starsky shrugged, "I've been better…" he whispered.

"Headache?"

The brunet nodded an affirmative. "No choice… Hutch. We hafta… go in." Worriedly Hutch stared at him. Starsky's face softened. "Hey…I'll manage."

Looking away, Hutch shook his head. Starsky was right. His best option was to go for it. Leaving him was out of the question, so he decided he just had to support him as best he could and hope they'd find an exit, or at the very least some clear water, soon. He sighed, "Okay, you're up for another walk?"

Not answering the question, his partner stumbled over to him to grab his shoulder. Hutch took a deep breath as he made his way towards the left-hand tunnel. Darkness beckoned them; shadows and ghosts. Not wanting to give his anxiety any more foods for thought, Hutch tightly wrapped a hand around his partner's back and took the rest of the steps that led them inside. Within seconds, the darkness had swallowed both of them up.

**

* * *

**

"What the hell are you doing here?" Fifth demanded, grabbing Stef by one arm, while trying to keep a crate from falling of the cart with the other. Two men quickly took over as Fifth pulled the unfortunate boy aside.

Surprised at finding Fifth cleaning up a storage cave instead off fighting Marcel's men, Stef ignored the question, asking one of his own instead. "What happened to the war?"

"It's over." Fifth released his grip. "As soon as our adversaries got word that their fearless leader had managed to blow himself and the church sky-high, they fled."

How Fifth always managed to get news this fresh, never failed to amaze Stef. _Guess that's why he's the main man around here, _he figured.

"We're leaving," Avenue continued. "Relocating; Marcel's men managed to destroy most of the tunnels, leaving only one escape-way intact. They probably meant to trap us near the west-side exit. However, since they have lost their little coup, I-"

"He's not dead," Stef interrupted.

The tall man in front of him fell abruptly silent and looked at him in disbelief.

"He's not dead, Fifth!" he repeated urgently when there was no reaction. "There's a good chance he _is _waiting at that exit for you and… oh no." His face fell.

"What?"

"Starsky and Hutch," he whispered, staring down in shock. "I sent them up through the tunnels, but if you're right, and there's only the West exit left…"

"They'll end up walking straight into Marcel's hands," Fifth finished for him.

"We're never gonna get there in time," Stef spoke, looking up in grief, "Are we?"

Fifth shook his head, "No… sorry."

* * *

tbc 


	15. Liquids chapter 18

Nearly finished; just one more chapter and epilogue to go! 

Thanks to all the usual suspects! Have a merry Christmas everybody!

Remember that this is NOT a death story...

Warning: strong emotional content.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

The rapid breathing in his ear echoed through the silent passageways and filled his heart with dread as Starsky's intake of air became ever faster. The weight leaning against his arm had steadily increased. His friend couldn't go much further.

"Starsk, hang on… we're almost out." Starsky was still conscious, hanging on through sheer strength of will. Death, preceded by the body slowly shutting down on his partner, was lurking far too close. If he closed his eyes Hutch could almost feel the cold power of the priest's workings destroying the life next to him, yet all he could do was to keep walking.

A shivering voice spoke up. "We're lost… aren't we?"

The small caves and dark passages they passed all looked the same. Hutch had no idea where he was going. But he wasn't about to tell his partner that. "You let me worry about that, buddy."

"Sure," Starsky slurred.

They entered a massive cave. Hutch stopped at the entrance as a cool breeze touched his face. It carried the scent of mosses, mouldy rocks, and stuffy floors, but also something else, something that tasted like a warning.

"Wass a… matter?"

"I don't know…"

Starsky straightened a little, trying to study the massive blackness beyond. "I can't see a thing…"

"It's probably nothing…" Hutch mulled. "Come on."

"Wait," although his voice was ragged, the demand in it was clear.

Hutch stopped in surprise. "What?"

Convulsing with sudden pain, Starsky kept silent for a while, catching his breath. "It's just that…" he stated weakly, "I'm sorry."

"Starsky, you're not a burden, if that's what you-"

"No… not that." Untangling himself slightly from Hutch's hold, Starsky managed to take a step back. "Sorry for hitting… you… earlier…"

Hutch frowned, shaken by his partner's confession. _You're gonna make it buddy, so why are you bringing this up now? _He looked away, refusing to think about anything other than that they would both get out of here, alive, "I told you, I'm all right… You didn't hurt me."

"Bull... Bullshit," Starsky bit back, his eyes momentarily clearing in penned up frustration.

Instantly, the words and the care behind them hurtled the blond back to a pain he'd started to feel ever since Starsky had turned on him in that hallway at the station. He bit his lip.

Mercilessly his partner continued, "I saw… you… flinch…a couple of times… that ain't … you, Hutch. Don't lie… to me."

Hutch turned to look his partner in the eye for the longest time, and then sighed, "Can't fool you," he said softly, "can I?"

Starsky shook his head; his eyes clouded with sympathy, "It's still… me and thee, partner, don't forget that…" His voice faltered, as he tried to keep the pain from showing and didn't succeed.

"I know, I know," Hutch answered firmly and quickly moved over. Gratefully, Starsky sank back against him. "Come on," the blond said, focused once more on getting his sick friend out. "Its time to leave this place."

No answer; Hutch could feel the strength ebbing away from his partner as he pulled him onwards. Cramps stiffened the body next to him as the symptoms of dehydration became more pronounced by the second.

The darkness was all encompassing. The only light came from a moss-like substance on the wall that glowed in the dark. Staying close to the side, he was making his way across the cave when severe muscle contractions in Starsky's back resulted in a loud moan that seemed to echo in the blond's soul.

_He's getting worse…_Hutch grabbed one of Starsky's hands a bit tighter. It felt cool and moist to the touch, indicating the body was unable to keepthe blood circulation going. Starsky was going into hypovolaemic shock. He'd be gone soon if rehydration wasn't started quickly. How long could his partner keep this up? Pulling him along as fast as he dared, he absentmindedly rubbed the hand with his fingers, willing some warmth back into the extremities.

Suddenly something hard impacted just above his head, sending a small avalanche of rocks down on top of him. Police instinct made him push his partner down as bullets, apparently coming from overhead, impacted on all sides, ricocheting off the wall and leaving bright orange sparks in their wakes. There were not gunshot sounds whatsoever, just bullets pounding in on either side of them.

"They're using silencers," Hutch hissed. The cave's exit was lost in the darkness somewhere up ahead. Hutch cursed, _we're sitting ducks. There's nothing to hide behind. _"We better move."

Starsky nodded but just as they were about to start their run, a voice echoed through the cave. Hutch looked up; he hadn't realised how big this space was. The voice sounded from somewhere up above, "Quiet but deadly. Don't you think so detective?" Marcel shouted. "Don't worry; we're all excellent marksmen… even in the dark."

Grabbing his partner by his shirt Hutch made a run for it. Keeping Starsky between him and the wall, he ducked, making them as small a target as possible. Eyes ahead and on the floor, he was running in near blindness, and had to catch his partner a couple of times as the man tripped and stumbled over unseen obstacles.

True to his claim, the lack of light didn't seem to bother Marcel's men. Hutch figured silencers weren't the only things they used, because their aim was frighteningly accurate. The firing seemed to increase; the exploding projectiles connecting with the stone wall, illuminating the place like small bolts of lightning.

A hot pain suddenly ripped through his shoulder, the force of impact slamming him back against the wall. Colliding ruthlessly with the stone, he bounced off of the surface, crashing hard onto the floor.

"Hutch! Oh God!"

For a moment he lay in silence, panting, confused as to what had happened. His shoulder felt numb and passiveness overwhelmed him, making him lay limply on the floor, unable to move.

"Hutch!"

The despair in his partner's voice cleared his mind. Was he hit? Yes, that was probably it. The son's of bitches had hit their mark, he thought bitterly. _I can't give in. Come on… snap out of it. Starsky's gonna be dead in under an hour if you don't do something. You hear me, Hutchinson? _

Clammy hands picked him up and he was dragged into a small passageway that led to a well-lit seclusion. When he was put down and sat pressed with his back against the wall, feeling began to return to his body. The stabbing pain relentlessly blocked out all thoughts and his face twitched in agony. Through mere slits he tried to ascertain the damage; his black pull over was covered in blood. The obvious source was a burning hole in his right shoulder.

"Shit," he murmured just as outside the little chamber shouts indicated the start off of a grim battle between Marcel's men and the rest of The Guild.

A low grunt escaped his throat. The fear of losing… losing his life… losing his partner… losing everything he cared about, exploded, filling him until he started to shake helplessly. He was a hardened man and able to handle physical pain very well; in his line of work you had to be able to give and take a punch or two. Yetto sickness or pain, Hutch wasn't such a hero, often wanting nothing more than to curl up against the overwhelming agony… and let things be.

" 'S okay, … I got ya," Starsky spoke, putting his hands on the blond's to still the trembling. He unbuckled Hutch's belt and ripped it from his pants. Then he used rags from his own shirt to try and stop the bleeding. Wrapping the belt tightly around the shoulder, he caused another moan to escape the blond's mouth.

The hands suddenly moved away, "Hutch…"

The scared voice jerked him towards the surface. Hutch opened his eyes to find the brunet sitting next to him, his head lolling onto his chest. "Starsk… stay awake!" In reflex he moved his hand up to grab his partner's shoulder. Pain shot through his body but he ignored it. He wasn't going to lose Starsky… Not now.

Starsky looked up. The tiredness that had settled behind blue eyes frightened Hutch to bits. "Hermes… did something, Hutch… 's not just the… loss of… blood. I can't… fight it."

"Yes! You can!" He squeezed the shoulder a little tighter. Cold… why was Starsky so cold? _Why am I so cold?_

" 'S too strong… like… poison. I can't feel… anything… no more." The brunet shook his head in a last attempt to shake of unconsciousness, and then reached for his Hutch 's hand. "I can't… hear you… speak? Hutch? Are you talking?" Fear ran rampant through the brunet's body. "I don't wanna… leave you. Hutch… don't let me…"

"Starsk, don't do this to me!"

Starsky looked down, then up again.

With a start Hutch's fogged mind registered that his friend was crying, only without the tears. Too dehydrated Starsky couldn't produce them anymore. Shocked, Hutch released the hand to put his firmly behind his partner's neck. Terrified, he pulled the half-unconscious man in. The movement made him fall back into oblivion, the pain in his shoulder migrated instantly to his lungs and he gasped, unable to quell it. He was falling… losing his grip on his own life.

And his partner was falling with him.

* * *

It was just like when Vic Bellamy had poisoned him. He was dying, losing ground fast to the priest's low voice that he kept hearing, a voice that wanted him asleep despite his fears for Hutch. He guessed it was hypnotic suggestion… whatever Hermes had done. But it was killing him… He didn't have long. Pressed against his partner's still body, Starsky shuddered to fight off the compelling darkness. 

Everything he'd done so far, from Simon, to having to go on a diet, from venting his fears and frustrations on his partner, to letting his guard down on that beach so he got caught, had led up to this point.

Running Hutch down in the process. That's what he'd been afraid off. That's what he'd tried so hard to prevent… and that's exactly what happened. He'd lost all feeling in his fingers a while ago, but it didn't stop him from tightening his grip with blood covered hands, blood that belonged to his partner; blood that should never have been spilled. True regret iced over his heart as he began to understand that he couldn't save Hutch… Not this time.

Fear rose to blind panic when his body suddenly convulsed. The priest's laugh echoed loudly in his ears. Faintly he tried to fight the man's pull, if only because he didn't want Hermes to get his way. But dehydration took its toll and he drifted away on the voice of the priest that softly lured him away from his partner, and into death.

* * *

_Starsky was running…_

_The rolling green hills in front of him beckoned. Downhill and uphill he stumbled, fighting the force of gravity that kept pulling him down. The cloudless sky above him was laced with deceptively soft music ringing in his ears, enticing him to stop, to give up, to lay down, roll over… and die. _

_His feet grew heavy. _

_Looking over his shoulder in despair, Starsky spotted Hermes following him at a leisurely pace, only three hills behind him. _

_The Priest's gruff voice slowed him down; the words making him feel as if he was moving through jelly. "You can run, Detective! But you can't escape me. I always get what I want, always get my prey..." The litany mingled with the music, creating a song that hammered his senses._

_There was a soft tug at his heart. Hutch… he had to save Hutch. _

_He kept running._

_When he dared to steal a backward glance again, his heart leaped into his throat; Hermes was only two hills behind him now! Reality seemed to slip as he frantically tried to figure out how the man was able to move so fast. The priest didn't even exert himself, just calmly seemed to close in with every step. _

He's bigger! He's heavier than I am. It's not possible! _Panic took hold. The music rang louder; the environment seeming to conspire against him as he continued running. He grew tired. _

_Scared, someone was scared._

_Hutch, he had to get to him, had to get away from the flesh-made fear chasing him. The priest was only one hill away from him now. Terror moved him forwards until he felt the breathing of the priestly predator in his neck. He couldn't escape… There was no escape._

_Panting in defeat, Starsky turned around… facing his pursuer. He stopped._

_"I told you," the white-robed man spoke coldly, calmly approaching the detective. "I always get what I want." _

_The air flowing into his lungs scorched his sore throat that felt raw with exertion. Breathing heavily, he could do nothing else but lean on his knees. He closed his eyes as resignation set in. No way out… No way to get Hutch out._

_The priest took his hands and, yanking him upright, he pulled them roughly behind his back. Cold, unmoving steel locked his wrists together, the sharp metal biting mercilessly in his wrists. He was still inhaling too deep too speak. _

_The priest smiled. "Your fears, your death, it all belongs to me, detective. You are mine… you always were." _

_Acceptance grew; fear lessened and looking straight into grey eyes, the answer came. _

_The priest's eyes grew large. "No. You can't sacrifice…!"_

_The brunet grinned, as the handcuffs fell away and warmth returned into his hands. He treasured the gift of life, the gift of love. Suddenly, he wasn't afraid anymore. _

"_NO! Your death is meant for me, for me alone!" _

_Starsky pointed a defying, angry finger at the priest, "For Hutch." _

* * *

A hand was softly placed against his cheek. Hutch opened drifted back to consciousness to see Starsky looking at him. Sweat glistening on the brunet's face as he talked with a soft smile. "You're gonna… make it," he whispered hoarsely, "Promise me?" 

"Starsk… we're both gonna-"

"Promise me," his partner demanded, his eyes shining clearer than they had before.

Pain flared inside him, unable to breathe Hutch gasped.

Quickly Starsky put a warm hand down on his chest, and the blond clapped a sweating hand around it. Heaving, he answered through clenched teeth, "I … promise." The hand upon his chest seemed to grow warmer. The pain lessened, Breathing became more easily. "Hey…" Hutch said surprised, " you did it?"

A smile tugged at the corner of his partner's lip. Then he gave a simple nod. "Me and thee…" he said softly… "'S just a little warmth… partner." Their eyes locked.

Remarkably, the pain in his chest and shoulder had numbed. If it was a trick of his mind or the sheer energy Starsky had put in the effort, Hutch didn't know. _Buddy, you don't have that much warmth yourself… you shouldn't try and…_

The brunet blinked a couple of times, then he closed his eyes. His hand tightened around Hutch's, "Keep… your… promise… Hutch." Starsky's hand started to drop as he was loosing the fight to stay awake.

"Starsk?"

His friend sank back against the wall; his hand releasing his grip until it opened and fell slack from the blond's hand.

Panicking Hutch grabbed the now cold hand with his good one that wasn't hampered by a shoulder wound, "Starsk?" he asked again, in a small voice. A fearful tear slipped when there was no answer. Desperately, Hutch grabbed his shoulder and shook it hard, "Damn you, STARSKY!" His terrified shout echoed through the hollow cave to get lost in the darkness beyond.

But the brunet didn't move again.

_Oh… God… no…_ Frantically he tried feeling for a heartbeat… a pulse… anything. There was nothing. His fingers were cold… and numb…maybe… maybe he just didn't feel it. Maybe Starsky's blood pressure and pulse were just undetectable due to the severe dehydration. Maybe…

Tears started to clog his vision. He felt hazy… too devastated to fight… to stay awake…

Promise me! 

His partner's voice ruthlessly cut in, triggering his resolve, his will to live. The warmth that had filled his chest had wrapped itself around his heart, causing him to fight, and to loose bitter tears while pressing his head against his partner's shoulder.

And there he sat waiting… hanging on because of those two lousy words Starsky had pulled out of him... he had no choice.

He'd given his word.

* * *

tbc 


	16. Final chapter and epilogue

**Author's note**: this is it, the final chapters. I will miss writing on this story, but I'm very happy that I managed to finish this. Here's a big warm hug to all of you who helped me achieve that goal, and to Strut who managed to get the beta work finished in time.

This story is up in its entirety at my website. Just go to my homepage link on my profile page and click on Liquids.

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Footsteps approached and Hutch opened his eyes to see the blurry shape of Stef walking in.

"Hurry," the boy spoke, sounding very far off. "They're distracted and… Jesus'…" He fell silent at the sight that greeting him.

"He's…" Hutch tried to speak up, but couldn't manage to get the words past his choked up throat.

Stef rushed over to Starsky's side. Squatting, he carefully checked the man's pulse, "… not dead yet."

A rush of relief, like a gentle breeze, made the blond put his head back against the wall. Closing his eyes, he took a couple of deep breaths

The boys words sounded soft, yet determined, "Can you stand? The exit isn't that far."

Hutch opened his eyes as Stef pulled on his arm. Biting his lip, he tried to comply but failed miserably.

"Fifth! Can you give us a hand here?" Stef called, his voice echoing through the small cave.

Fifth Avenue walked in with his usual flamboyant style, not a speck of dirt on his blue shirt.

Hutch watched him through hazy eyes.

"Detective Hutchinson? I've seen you look better."

"Yeah," Hutch whispered.

The flamboyant man turned to Stef. "Right, I'll get Starsky and you support Mister White Knight over there."

Hutch flinched slightly at the name. Fifth's knowledge of the inner workings of the police force was sometimes eerie. With the Guild's leader carrying the brunet in a fireman's carry and Hutch leaning on Stef, they made their way out of the little seclusion area. Despite his fogged mind, the blond was taken aback for a few seconds at the scene spreading in front of him upon entering the larger cave. A couple of bodies littered the floor.

"Do you know how many of my men they killed?" Fifth Avenue answered the unspoken disapproval on Hutch's face. Apparently he didn't expect a reply, for he continued, "They were 'this' close to wiping out the entire Guild, taking you two with them."

Hutch staggered a bit as the nausea became overwhelming, but Stef held firm. For a boy his age he was remarkably strong; _must be from the roof climbing, _he thought as Stef pulled him away from the horrific sight.

"Luckily, we have things under control now," Fifth stated. "Come on, this way."

Stef had been right. The exit wasn't far. Step by step Fifth and Stef worked to get both him and his partner back into the daylight. _It was night when we went in. Is it daytime all ready? How long were we in there? God… it feels like forever. _The scent of the ocean's salt water filled his nostrils, making him stagger more quickly towards civilisation.

Bitter words halted him in his tracks, words that almost got lost by the sound of the waves crashing upon the distant beach, "So you think you're all so clever, don't you?"

_Marcel!_ And he was close and easily heard over the sounds of the ocean. Forgetting for a second about his shoulder wound, Hutch let go of Stef and whipped around. His body didn't agree with him. Pain lashed through his entire upper torso, and with a low grunt, he sunk to the ground. He was just in time to see the blood smeared assassin shoot Fifth Avenue point blank. The Guild's leader was blown off his feet, flying backwards and dropping the brunet, he was dead on impact. Starsky fell hard onto the floor. Momentum rolled him over a couple of times before he lay still on the rock bottom, face up, with one arm flung over his chest.

Marcel laughed, shifting his aim to the still brunet.

Despite the excruciating pain, Hutch desperately tried to crawl over to his partner in an effort to protect him. He nearly cried out when his body refused to move and he found out the hard way that all he could do was lay there. _Noooo… _

A dull thud made him look up, straight into Stef's trembling features. The brown eyes were fixed on Marcel, and his empty hand was shaking like a leaf. A strangled gasp drew his eyes at the assassin who now wore a knife buried in his chest.

Marcel looked down at it in disbelief. "Too late…" he whispered evilly. "With Fifth gone… the Guild is destroyed." Then his lifeless body sank to the floor.

"Stef…" Stef's eyes met Hutch's, the boy looked horrified. _It's all right…_ _You had no choice…_He wanted to do more, to comfort the boy. To thank him, but his sight blurred. Life was loosing ground to death fast. Slightly panicking he tried to fight it. Then his eye fell on his partner's still face. He managed to reach out one hand, before slipping into darkness.

* * *

"Huggy!"

Huggy looked up. He'd left Dobey and his man to do a thorough search near the cliff edge. Squinting, he managed to make out the form of Stef standing on an outcropping near the top. With a healthy dose of cursing and panting the bartender made his way up to him. _Jeez, you must be a freakin' mountain goat to climb this cliff! _"This is definitely not one of my favourite past times," Huggy complained when he finally reached the boy.

"They're in there." Stef pointed to a cave Huggy had missed seeing entirely. "Hurry, they're in pretty bad shape!"

"Starsky and Hutch?"

Stef nodded.

Making his way over to the cave, Huggy turned, "Stef, why don't you go and call the…"

The cliff was empty as if the boy had never been there. Startled, Huggy stood for a moment, wondering if he'd imagined Stef calling out to him. Then a sense of urgency pushed him onwards, into the cave and out of sight.

XXXXX

"_Detective Hutchinson?"_

_Standing on the top of the hill, Hutch warily watched the priest making his way up to him. He frowned. Was it him, or did the man look tired? At any rate, he definitely looked pissed. _

_Reaching him, Hermes stuck out a bony hand. _

_Hutch took a step back, unsure of the man's intensions._

_A shimmer, turning into the waving form of Starsky standing next to Hutch shook its head warningly, presenting the priest with a fiery stare._

_Hermes pulled his hand back, "Right…" he mused, "I can't touch you… or Dave anymore for that matter. The bond you two have is too strong." He stood back, giving him a penetrating stare. "It's your partner I want Hutchinson, but your white knighthood protects him. His unforeseen sacrifice protects you. But remember this, and remember it well, you won't always be there. Just give me the chance… give me one shot at him…a flying bullet, a loss of faith in your friendship, an assassination attempt… and David will be mine… just like that. _

_A shiver ran down Hutch's spine. His fear of being alone, of dying alone, and of having to watch Starsky die first, surfacing with force. Only to dissipate into the clear air at the feeling of his partner's hand on his shoulder. Feeling strength returning, he took a threatening step forwards. _

_Keeping his eye on the blond, seemingly intimidated, the priest backed off down the hill and turned his attention to Starsky, "I'd watch that blond partner of yours closely, if I were you. He's physically very strong, but I wonder if he can withstand a plague?" When, to his obvious disappointment, there was no reaction, he continued, "You found the answer to stay alive… Dave. Treasure it…for as long as it lasts."_

Two men, lying in a small hospital room, in two separate beds, woke up simultaneously; one coming out of sedation, the other out of shock.

Hutch turned his head sideways and through his blurry vision he could see Starsky staring at him. "Starsk, you okay?" He couldn't manage more than a strained whisper.

For a moment he didn't think his partner had heard him, but then the brunet spoke just as quietly. "Was it real? Hutch…" He swallowed a couple of times, before being able to continue, "The dream… was it real?" His voice sounded slightly panicked.

"Shhhh… don't think about it. It'll be all right. Just go to sleep."

The blue eyes blinked shut.

"I'm here, buddy," Hutch whispered, "I ain't going anywhere."

_Who cares whether the dream was real or not, you made it… Thank God, you made it. _For the first time since Simone, Hutch felt himself relax and let himself sink back into a deep sleep; the healing kind this time.

* * *

"Doc says you're ready to try solids. Wanna try some pudding?" Hutch had manoeuvred himself into a wheelchair and had parked in between their two beds. His shoulder wound had started to heal nicely, and he'd gotten rid of the sling to try and eat his diner. If it weren't for Starsky, he would have gone against the doctor's advice and vacated the hospital a week ago. But his partner's reluctance to eat had worried him. So he'd taken it upon himself to try getting some real food into the man. He didn't particularly care for the tasteless leftovers sitting on his diner plate, which he balanced in his lap, right now. But he knew the pudding was something Starsky should love.

"'M not hungry," Starsky muttered, with his nose buried deep into a Marvel comic.

"Of course you're not hungry," Hutch argued. "This drip you're on is feeding you nutrients straight into your veins. Your stomach has grown lazy!"

His partner briefly glanced at him over the top of the book, before ignoring the argument completely by turning over a page and concentrating on the pictures again.

Frustrated, Hutch tried one more time, "You have to start eating sooner or later, you might as well start now; its just pudding for crying out loud."

No reaction whatsoever.

"Starsky, your body needs to learn how to digest again!"

Slapping the book down in irritation, Starsky looked at him with an equal annoyed look on his face. "The only thing I'm digesting right now is your constant whining about food. I told you I'm not hungry, blondie!"

Hutch's hand landed on his plate with a loud clap, causing plates and pudding danced up and down with the impact. "Starsky, I won't be happy until I see you hitting every taco stand on every street corner again!" He lifted the bowl, "So you're gonna eat this pudding now or so help me God, I'll-"

It didn't seem to impress the brunet one bit. Starsky simply raised his eyebrows at the blond's short tempered behaviour and countered coolly, "Not until they remove Louise."

"Louise?"

His partner nodded at the IV pole and line feeding him liquids next to his bed. It was currently decorated with a nightgown that a previous resident had left behind in one of the closets, and a feminine wig of long red hair that Huggy had put on top.

Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, Hutch put the bowl down. "Fine… have it your way. Just so you know… this pudding is actually not that bad. You don't know what you're missing buddy." He dipped a spoon in it and then let the stuff slide into his mouth, "Yup, it's really good." He looked up. _If that doesn't get you to eat nothing will! _"Are you sure you won't try any of it?"

Starsky stared at him, before releasing a deep sigh, "Okay, okay, give me the damn bowl; anything to wipe that haunted look off your face."

Grinning Hutch passed on the pudding and for a brief moment their hands touched. Without letting go of the white bowl the blond asked softly, "How did you do it, Starsk?"

"How'd I do what?" he answered, eyes locked on the yellow substance seemingly vibrating in the small bowl. When there was no reply he lifted his head.

"You know, back at the cave?" Feeling slightly embarrassed, Hutch let go of the pudding.

Shifting his eyes down to his hands, Starsky said in a quiet tone, "I dunno. It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it did." A genuine look of compassion crossed Hutch's features as their eyes met. "Are you feeling okay?"

Starsky took a deep breath, and then proceeded to eat a bit of the pudding. Obviously liking what he tasted he smacked his lips together. "Hey, this stuff is pretty good."

Obviously realizing his partner still waited for an answer he put the bowl down and lay back against the pillows. "Yeah." His voice turned serious, "I do… I guess ol' Hermes managed to quell some fears after all, huh?"

"No," Hutch shook his head, "You did that all by yourself Starsk." _And you took away mine in the process. I never should've doubted you or your loyalty in the first place, buddy."_

"What about the dream we both had?" Starsky's voice sounded slightly fearful, as he turned his head against the pillow to watch the blond.

Hutch didn't have an answer. He would be more than happy to forget about that shady unreal meeting with the priest. In fact, the whole dream had already started to fade. He couldn't recall the details anymore. But he could remember the words that were spoken, and the threats that had been uttered. The memory left a cold feeling behind in his stomach. "D' you suppose there was any truth to what he said?"

Starsky bit his lip. "Probably not, but it wouldn't hurt us to watch each other's back more closely from here on out."

"You think you'll get shot?"

"You think you'll get seriously ill? Get a plague or something?"

They stared at each other in silence for a while before Starsky broke the eye contact to eat another gooey bit of the pudding. "Well," he joked, swallowing the soft food. "If you do, I can always try the hand layin' trick again."

Hutch smiled, "How's the food?"

"Hmmm, I don't think this will do our relationship any good."

Startled, Hutch looked up at him.

Starsky grinned, "Me and Louise, dummy. I'll have to break up with her now."

Feeling a weight lift from his heart, Hutch laughed, "It was never meant to be."

"Yup, it's time for me to move on." Putting his hands behind his head, Starsky stared dreamingly at the ceiling, "'Cos I think I'm ready to try some of those tacos again."

Gently Hutch took the empty bowl away from his partner's lap. "When you do, I think I'll join you."

"You will?" Starsky said in surprise.

"Yeah," Hutch smiled again. "I guess I will."

* * *

_I killed… _

Stef sat upon the roof… peering through the hospital window. _I killed… there's no going back from that._ He sighed. The Guild was gone… its members spread; the whole organisation was just a bad memory. But the blood on his hands was a permanent mark he couldn't erase so easily.

He came here every night to watch Hutchinson standing vigil at his partner's bed side; watched as Starsky finally woke up entirely and after a while started to joke again, watched as he saw the blond crack a smile again.

Suddenly a dark shadow obstructed the brightly lid rectangle that let him take a peek at another world; one of warmth and friendship. Startled he realized someone was looking through the window at him… then settled down as he realized it was Huggy. The proprietor nodded slightly and Stef gave him a short salute in acknowledgement before backing down. _They're all right. At least I don't have their blood on my hands. _

'_Detective Hutchinson cleared you of all charges, Stef.'_ Huggy had relayed to him when he'd drawn up the courage to visit the Pits. If only his heart could be cleared that easily from the black stain of killing. If only he could talk to someone about it. A cold breeze set in, throwing a brown lock of hair in his eye. Angrily, he wiped it away, feeling more alone by the second.

With a sigh he started to climb down the building. As he dropped onto the concrete floor of the alleyway, a voice sounded clear through the air, "Hello Stef…"

Stef froze and blinked a couple of times, unsure that he heard it right. The voice was lower… Still, it sounded like him. But it couldn't be! It was impossible! Rooted to the spot, he grabbed hold of a rung from the ladder he'd just vacated.

"Don't you want to turn around… little brother?"

He turned, ever so slowly, afraid of what he might find; his heart beating in his throat. There, in the dark shadows, a figure in a wheelchair rolled forward into the light. _Will. _

He gasped. Overwhelming emotions rushed to the surface all at once and his eyes clouded with tears that forced their way up. _Oh my God! Will!_

A smile lit the face in front of him. His brother had aged but the dark, almost black eyes still sparkled with intelligence and love. The brown hair was longer than he remembered but it was him.

"Aren't you gonna say something."

Stef took a careful step forward, afraid that coming closer would wipe out the image in front of him; afraid that it was all an illusion. But the man didn't disappear. He reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

"Yeah…" his brother's voice choked up, "'M real, little brother."

Suddenly his face warmed due to the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Will," he choked falling into his brother's embrace, "You're here?" He started to shoot barely heard questions at the man. "What the hell happened? You're … alive?" He pulled back, shaking from head to toe, wiping his face.

"Seems like it, doesn't it?"

Stef didn't find it funny, guilt turned into relief, and relief turned into anger. His tears started to flow again; tears of anger this time. He wanted answers. Wanted to know why Will had never contacted him, had left him in pain and grief for over four years. He couldn't help but let it show on his face. "Why?" His voice was bitter, and he took another step back. Shaking his head in frustration, "Why, damn you. Why!"

Will, looked down. "It wasn't my choice." He took a deep breath. "It was the only way to keep you safe. After I got shot… Fifth Avenue took me in and nursed me back to health." He looked up; dark eyes met Stef's. "We knew then that Marcel was bad news, but we couldn't do anything about it until the man made his move. So I stayed in the background to never show my face, because if Marcel were to find out I was still alive, he would go after you to draw me out. And that would be the end of the Guild. We had to wait until Marcel would make a mistake. Fifth tried to keep a close eye on the man, but in the end he still managed to take us by surprise."

"Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer, huh?" Stef spoke hoarsely.

Will nodded. "I don't blame you for being mad at me. I can't tell you how proud I am of you. If it weren't for your actions… those two cops wouldn't be alive right now.

Stef hung is head, "But at what cost? Fifth's dead, the Guild's gone."

Will spoke up with a sly grin on his face, "Stef, whoever said Fifth was the leader of the Guild?"

Stef's head snapped up, "He wasn't?"

Will turned his wheelchair and started to roll away. "No, I am."

Once again Stef stood frozen to the spot.

Will shouted back at him, "Are you coming?"

Shaking off the shock of multiple surprises, Stef couldn't help but grin widely before running after the man.

The two figures changed to mere silhouettes; one sitting, one walking quietly alongside his brother to both disappear slowly into the night.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Starsky, where'd he go?" Having just circled a large building, the blond stood panting at the intersection. Since it was the middle of the night, there wasn't much traffic. The extortionist they were chasing couldn't have gone far.

"How the hell should I know? You were supposed to cut off his path!"

Hutch eyed the building. "You're thinking, what I'm thinking?"

"He went up!"

Panting, Hutch watched his partner speeding away from him.

Ever since the man had fully recovered, or better yet had his full appetite back, Starsky seemed unstoppable. Lately all he seemed to do was eat. And when he wasn't eating he was chasing some low-life punk down a dark alleyway. As if he needed to prove to himself that his anxiety attacks were truly gone.

Still not in top-shape, Hutch had trouble keeping up with him. He eyed the dark sky. Praying that this hyper-active state of his partner would pass soon, Hutch turned to run after him. When he finally did reach the rooftop that Starsky had climbed like a monkey, he was surprised to find the extortionist already gagged and tied up to a chimney, and to find his heavily breathing partner sitting next to the man on what appeared to be part of the building's ventilation system.

"Starsk, how did you-?"

"It wasn't me."

"Then who?"

Starsky motioned to towards the perp, "There's a note."

Giving the brunet a puzzled look Hutch walked over to rip the note from between the man and the ropes. His brow frowned in astonishment as he began to read. "Listen to this Starsk. 'I owe you, Will owes you; the Guild owes you.' It's signed by Stef."

"The Guild? I thought it was destroyed?"

"I thought Will was dead." Hutch stated simultaneously.

Starsky grunted. "Does this mean we're going to have to turn the town upside down again to find them? We're cops Hutch. It's our duty to bust guys like these."

"'P.S. Don't worry… We're moving back to Europe.'" Hutch continued reading.

The brunet grinned, "I'm gonna miss that kid."

Untying the wide eyed perp from the chimney, Hutch said, "Yeah, he was all right for a thief."

Starsky stood up and roughly pushed the frightened man in the direction of the emergency ladder running down the side of the building. "Hutch… wanna grab a bite to eat after we've booked this guy?"

"What, now? It's two in the morning!"

Starsky looked at him, contorting his face in misery. In fact, he looked as hungry as he did when he was on liquids. Hutch couldn't withstand the puppy eyed look Starsky shot him. Knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the brunet's food requests in the months to come, he gave in. "Whatever keeps you happy, partner."

Starsky's whoop of joy broke the quiet night and rapidly, the brunet started to descend the iron ladder.

Hutch sighed and motioned the perp to follow his partner down. _Better get used to it, Hutchinson, cos you're gonna be eating tacos at two for the rest of your career. _

"Hey, Hutch," Starsky called when the blond met up with him at the base of the building, "Don't you just love nights like these, with no wind, no rain, just a fresh breeze, and a full moon?"

Putting the cuffs on the perp, Hutch didn't even bother answering to that. His partner had clearly gone over the deep end now.

"We're at one with the ground beneath our feet, partner." Starsky added, slapping his partner on the back.

Hutch couldn't help but let Starsky's joy affect him. The smile in his heart started to show on his face. Yep, his partner was back, and he was his cheery self again. For that he was immensely grateful. Pushing the perp in front of them towards the Torino, he put a hand around the brunet's shoulder and stated, "Solid ground, Starsk… Don't forget… its solid ground."

"Well said, Hutch," Starsky said in earnest. "Well said."

**THE END**


End file.
